Life's an Adventure

I'd like to think that deep down, I'm an adventure seeker and a risk taker. I often bombard Jacob with my crazy ideas. I mean, come on, who doesn't want to pack up their belongings and move across the country? Who cares about all the logical questions you should be asking? You know, like how are you going to find a job? Or where do you plan to live? Or what you're going to do when your thousands of miles away from your family and every comfort you've ever known? 

As I said, I'd like to think that I could describe myself that way. But when it all comes down to it, the mere thought of change sends a shiver down my spine. 

Let's take this week's happenings for example.... 

My husband and I constantly browse houses, cars, etc. For one, we always like to know what's out there (you never know what may catch your eye) and for two, we enjoy dreaming about what we'd do if we ever really were to strike it big (for those of you keeping score, our lotto tickets have yet to pan out for us). 

However, this last week, we happened to stumble across a piece of real estate that REALLY caught our eye. 

It presented itself to us as a house similar in size and layout to ours but also on some acreage. #winning 

So we stewed on it. We questioned it. We thought to ourselves, "maybe we should just inquire about it." So we did. It ended up not being quite the deal we had originally thought. The original house on the property had actually burned down. However, there was a garage which had been insulated and partially converted to living quarters. Heck, we could make this work! 

And here comes the twist.... 

I FREAKED out. Like full on, "we are crazy, why would we even think about this?" freaked out. We've lived in our house for two years. It's everything we've ever wanted (minus land), we've made it into a home for us and our two children. We've created endless memories with family and friends. I kept thinking, "why in the heck would we want to give this up and start from scratch?"

But, after days of contemplation and hesitation, we decided to go for it. The least we could do was take a look at the property. And if it was what we wanted and we felt like it was attainable, we'd take the next step. 

Tonight was the night. As we headed out to meet the real estate agent, my head was spinning with questions and scenarios. When we arrived at the property, we spoke with the Agent and wandered around the living quarters and land for a few moments. In my head, I was beginning to think "this could really be it. We could do this."

Plot twist. 

The property had three offers put in on it TODAY. And above the price range that we'd decided we'd be comfortable in. But here's the thing, we went for it. We put ourselves out there and we explored an option. And maybe this one didn't pan out. But maybe the next one will. 

Life is an adventure. I'd rather have a lifetime of "oh wells" than "what ifs?"

At the end of the day, Jacob and I have each other. We have our kids. We have a home and jobs that provide. 

But life is an adventure. 

Take the trip, make the call, eat the cake. 

Find your happy.

And make memories along the way.

Feelin' Fine at 29!

When we're younger, we always wanted to be "grown up" and our parents would always, always tell us, "slow down, enjoy these days, you'll be an adult in the blink of an eye." Back then, we never believed them. And now, as much as I hate to admit it, they were right. 

29 years have come and gone faster than I could have ever imagined. 

Yesterday, as I was going down the playhouse slide (for the 10th time), Brynlee on my lap, I couldn't keep from smiling. My view from the top of the slide is everything I've ever dreamed of. 

From there I was able to see my husband tinkering in the garage. A man that was placed in my life 12 years ago and has been a saving grace ever since. I was able to see my nearly 10 year old son, laying in the middle of the trampoline, singing his heart out to a song by Twenty One Pilots. A boy who wears his heart on his sleeve and loves with his whole heart. I was able to see my daughter's eyes light up and hear her little voice say "let's do it again Mommy," as we got to the bottom of the slide. I was able to see the house that Jacob and I initially joked about being our dream home, the one we worked so hard for, the one we are now able to call a home. I also saw the back porch, a gathering place many evenings for our family and friends. A porch that holds memories of conversations, cards games, laughter and tears. 

I'm blessed in many other ways as well. 

I have a group of friends that have been there for me through thick and thin. These people are my tribe. They're the people I reach out to when I'm hurting or upset. They're the people I laugh with. They're the people who know me (better than I know my self at times). They get me. 

I have an amazing work family. They make the normal 8 to 5 day more interesting and more fun. They're my therapists when I need an unbiased opinion regarding an issue. They're the comic relief when the times get busy and chaotic. 

And while I was initially having a hard time grasping that Monday marked the beginning of the final year in my twenties, I know it's going to be a good year, considering I only have 363 days to complete my "30 Before 30 List" (an update on that is below). So here's to a year of love and laughter. A year of adventure and chaos. A year of new things and new places. A year guaranteed to be one for the books.

30 Before 30

1. Start writing again, for me. To explore the possibilities of starting a blog and getting my thoughts out in hopes that it can help me find an outlet on days like today, to find my way back to something I am very passionate about and maybe, just maybe, help some other people through days like today.  I feel I can officially cross this one off my list as I have continued to work on this blog. It may not be as regularly as I'd like but hey, it's a start.

2. Get healthy. Eat better. Lose 15-25 pounds. (I am 8 pounds down from when I originally made this list). Be more active (I've been going to the gym for a solid 3 weeks now). This will always be a work in progress but that's okay. There is beauty in every step forward.

3. Be a better me. For myself, for Jacob, for our kids.

4. Take more pictures of us. Of our children. Of nature. Find beauty behind the lens.

5. Get another tattoo. An anchor? The kid's names? Both?

6. Partake in a paintball fight.

7. Find adventure. Try new things. Say yes more often.

8. Go on a random road trip with friends.

9. Travel to a new city or state. We have a family trip to Dauphin Island, AL in June. With only 51 days before we leave, the countdown is on! 

10. Play messy twister.

11. Become a "regular" somewhere. 

12. Learn to cook. I've screwed up hamburger helper for Pete's sake!

13. Start a new family tradition.

14. Know that it's okay to say how I feel. Holding it in doesn't provoke change.

15. Rekindle the romance and friendship with my husband. Times get tough. Sometimes giving up seems like the easiest thing to do but 11 years is too far to come to just walk away. I feel Jacob & I have both made steps forward in this category. He is my best friend. He always makes me laugh (even when I'm trying really hard not to). He calls me on my crap. And at the end of the day, we have each other and we're working to be the best versions of ourselves for each other and our kids. 

16. Go to a Chase Rice concert. 

17. Worry less. It's okay to go a day without makeup or the perfect hair. And lazy Sundays are and should be a thing. I've definitely been embracing the exhilaration of not having to get all dolled up on the weekends.

18. Finally watch the Lord of the Rings & Hobbit trilogies.

19. Find the prettiest waterfall in the state of Kansas.

20. Experience a drive in theater. 

21. Re-read the Harry Potter series & have a weekend marathon.

22. Continue to make more time for family.

23. Lear to let go. Of hurt and of anger.

24. Make time for myself.  The time between 5am & 6:15 am, Monday through Friday, that time is for me (even if I'm spending it sweating my butt off in the gym!)

25. Home improvement projects. Kitchen (done), wall decor, office area.

26. Explore the opportunities within an online course or certification. 

27. Find the best cheeseburger in the state of Kansas.

28. Read more. I've read some good ones so far this year. I've found a new favorite author, Kristin Hannah & really enjoyed and recommend "The Good, The Bad and the Grace of God" by Jep & Jessica Robertson.

29. Go to a musical.

30. Never back down. Go after my dreams.

An Autobiography

Slacking. I'm slacking again. It's been almost a month since I've last made a blog post. Today, I've decided to enlighten you readers with some facts about yours truly. Maybe you already knew some of these things and maybe you didn't. Be prepared to be amazed. 

1. I was born in North Carolina (where the majority of my mother's family still resides) and moved to Kansas shortly before I turned four. And while you can take the girl out of the south, you can't take the south out of the girl. I still call a shopping cart a buggy and a stocking hat a toboggan (I know, I know, I've heard a million times that a toboggan is a sled). I say y'all. I drink sweet tea. I love cole slaw on my hot dogs. 

2. I started babysitting at the age of nine. While I loved spending time with kids, I swore up and down that I'd never be married or have children of my own. My views have since changed.Obviously. 

3. As a kid and as a teenager, I used to be able to run, quickly. My brothers and I would race each other down the road we lived on at the time and I would win, a lot. Nowadays I couldn't outrun a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter. 

4. I've previously made mention that I love to write. As a teenager, I had started writing a book, "The Adventures of Krimishi." I can't remember much about the story anymore except that the main character's name was Krimishi and she had magical powers. 

5. While Legends of the Fall remains one of my favorite movies to date, Tristan was not named after Brad Pitt's character in the movie (yes, I have been asked this on several occasions). In fact, I hadn't ever seen the movie until after he was born. 

6. I LOVE to sing. I was in choir until 8th grade. My favorite choir program was in 6th grade when we got to sing "Be Our Guest" from Beauty and the Beast. I sing everywhere. In the shower. In the car. During spin class. On the same note, while I love to sing, I never said I was actually any good at it. 

7. I am a Disney enthusiast. I have loved all things Disney for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I'd watch Beauty and the Beast and make sure to find a basket and fill it with books and prance around the living room singing along with the opening scene. I'd watch the Little Mermaid and push myself up on the coffee table as Ariel sang the last line of "Part of Your World." Disney karaoke? I'm your girl. 

8. I grew up going to a Baptist Church. I quit going when I was about 17. I've visited several churches off and on since then but haven't gone regularly. And I'll be honest, I've come to find that I really miss it. 

9. I have a gypsy spirit. I daydream constantly about packing up, moving to a new place and beginning a new adventure (with my family in tow of course). 

10. There have been several times in my life that I've thought about pursuing a career in nursing. Funny coming from the girl who used to be terrified of needles (and still gets a little woozy around them if I'm being honest). The urge was at an all time high after Brynlee was born. Seeing my baby girl in the NICU, being around the nurses and staff that became a second family at the time, I truly felt I'd like to give back to other families the way those people had given hope to us during our time of need. I still think about it from time to time. 

11. I absolutely despise the sound of fingernails being clipped. Is there a phobia that coordinates with that? If so, I definitely have it.

12. I talk to myself out loud frequently. 

13. I'm a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. But the jeans can easily be replaced with sweatpants or athletic shorts or workout pants. Basically, my style is very comfort driven.

14. I'd never gone camping until Jacob and I started dating, 12 years ago. It is now one of my favorite things to do! 

15. I'm a go with the flow girl. I feel like I'm on a consistent time crunch when I've scheduled my days full of activities. I'd rather just see which direction the wind happens to blow me in that day. 

16. I never thought I'd say this, ever. But going to the gym has become my outlet. I really feel like I've started the day off right when I know I just busted my butt in the gym.

17. I love the little moments in life. Unexpected visits. "I want to hold you," coming from my two year old because she's tired and needs a snuggle. The random facts my son spews on the daily (he's on his way to genius status). The way my husband can always make laugh, always. The smell of a new book. Simple nights sitting on the back porch, conversing the night away. 

And with that, I'm completing this post. Maybe this provided a little insight to what goes on in this pretty little head of mine. Maybe you got a chuckle and maybe not. But I figure, I've probably rambled on long enough for now. And I can't give away all my secrets can I?

Non-Scale Victory

Back on January 26th, I posted my "30 Before 30" list. Number two on that list read as follows: "2. Get healthy. Eat better. Lose 15-25 pounds. Be more active."

Let's be honest, I've had this same goal for myself before and I know I'm capable of reaching it. Back in 2013, a few months before I got pregnant with Brynlee, I had gotten myself in the routine of jogging (okay...so maybe it was more like walking quickly) five miles, at least five times a week, lost 10 pounds and some inches, and felt the best I'd ever felt since my high school swim days. 

Fast forward to August 2016, when I'd reached my highest weight...like, ever. Nine months pregnant with Tristan, I weighed in at 170. In August, I stepped on the scale and cringed at the numbers that appeared. 172.4 pounds. Eek. I told myself, "this is nowhere near where you want to be, however, only you have the power to change it."

September 12th, 2016 I made a public post on both my Facebook and Instagram accounts. 
"I am currently under construction. Thank you for your patience." 167.4 pounds, that's what I weighed when I stepped on the scale that morning. Down five pounds from my August weigh in and yet still not near where I wanted to be. But I'd put it out there that it was my goal to change, my goal to start the road to a better me. 

September came and went. As did November and December. I used the holidays as the excuse as to why things hadn't changed. But in January, after getting down on myself while trying on clothes, I told myself once again, "only you have the power to change this." And since then, I've been traveling down the road of change. 

I've been actively going to the gym since after the first of the year. A HUGE shout-out to my coworker Nicole, who became my gym buddy and works out beside me day in and day out. In the beginning, we searched Pinterest for workouts, rotating daily between a mixture of cardio and/or an arms, legs or core workout. At first, getting up at 5 am was a struggle. There was a few times I'd forget to set my alarm or though I'd hit snooze for that extra five minutes of sleep and in actuality, had shut it off. Whoops! Multiple people have told me I'm crazy for getting up this early to go to the gym. But here's my take on it: I get up and get my workout in before I'd normally be out of bed. I get an hour of "me time" working towards a goal I have set for myself. My husband and kids are still in bed and this way I still have the entire evening to spend with them. 

A few weeks ago, I was feeling discouraged by my progress. The scale hadn't budged since I'd begun working out in January: 163 pounds and holding steady (I failed to realize that this was down 9.4 pounds since my August weigh in). On the whole I'd been more active and eating healthier than before, however, the weight seemed to be sticking. 

This same week, Nicole and I were speaking and decided that we'd like to begin a group workout class. We zoned in on the morning spin/bootcamp class that E-Fit offers in the mornings, 3 days a week. We'd both previously taken a similar class and decided that it was one that we'd like to get involved with again. Three weeks ago, we started the class. 

I'd be lying if I said that this class didn't kick my butt every.single.day. I'd be lying if I said it didn't push me to and beyond my limit. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't drenched in sweat and smelling foul every Monday, Wednesday and Friday when I walk out of that gym door. 

However, that is exactly why I love this class. The instructor, Jess challenges and pushes us every class. But she's also fun and encouraging. Before this January, I rarely spent time in the gym, so I know there are times when I'm struggling with how an exercise is to be performed and she's right there beside me, instructing and cheerleading. The other women (and men) in the class are great as well. We laugh. We cheer each other on. We look at each other, eyes wide when we know our limits are about to be tested. 

I appreciate the E-Fit staff. Last Friday, Jess, our instructor, informed us that there would be a Saturday boot camp class. I decided, what the heck? What better way to start my Saturday than a butt-kicking workout? After 5 rounds of what I thought at the time was pure craziness, I walked myself over to gather my things before heading home. Audrey (who I'd seen pretty much every morning at the gym) walked over to me, asked my name, introduced herself and offered kind words of encouragement for showing up that day. 

It's the little things people, it really is. Every smile, every "good job", they are what keeps me going. 

And yes, the scale is still lingering at 163 but you know what? That's okay. Do I hope eventually that the number will lower? Yes, I do. But along the way, I've found victory in other things. I'm toning up. My stomach is shrinking and getting flatter (a huge obstacle for a mother of two, the second by emergency c-section). I can fit comfortably in medium sized workout pants. I'm starting to see muscles forming in my arms. I made it across the monkey bars at the gym twice on Friday. My pants are getting too big. I can do push-ups (even if it's only in small quantities). 

And I am damn proud of this journey I'm on. It's not always easy. I ate oreos after dinner last night. But hey, I'm doing this thing and I'm doing it for me. One non-scale victory at a time. 

  

March 4th

Next Saturday is March 4th. Next Saturday, I'll be enjoying a day in Kansas City with friends, attending a concert we've all been excited to attend. I'm sure it will be a day full of fun and laughter as my friends never fail to disappoint in the entertainment department. But next Saturday is March 4th. 

I've never written publicly about the significance of March 4th in my world. Only very few of my closest family members and friends know the meaning of this date and how it relates to my life. 

I ask those of you reading this to keep an open mind and heart. Because some of those that read this may view it as hurtful or confusing. And  it is not my intention to hurt or confuse. However, the purpose of this blog is to help me deal with life and to hope that it helps others, so I'm opening up in regards to a very personal subject. 

What is March 4th? March 4, 2017 would have been my father's 48th birthday. 

Now, I know what some of you are thinking. What do you mean would have been your father's 48th birthday? Your dad is still alive and well. (I am in NO way discounting the dad that raised me from the time I was 3 by writing this post - if you feel that is my intention then maybe reading this blog is not for you). 

Jesse Dwane Cantrell. Born March 4, 1969. Died August 22, 1987.

My mother named me Jessica after him. Before I was adopted by my dad, we even shared the same initials, JDC (Jessica Danielle Childers - Childers being my mom's maiden name). 

I never got the chance to meet my biological father. My mom learned she was pregnant shortly after my father's passing. It wasn't until I was ten or so that my mom told me about him. I'll never forget the details of that day, the smell of pork chops frying in the kitchen or the sadness in my mom's voice as she told me about him. 

At 14, I spent a month of my summer in North Carolina with my Grandma. I expressed to her that I wanted to visit his grave-site, not to stir up trouble or questions, but for myself. She and my Aunt Betty took me to visit. I'll never forget how I felt, walking up to a grave-site half covered by a plant, for a man that I'd never known or get the chance to know, but who is very much a part of me. 

I don't know much about my father. For years, I could hardly get my mom to open up about him (although I can't say that I blame her or would be any different given the chance to walk in her shoes). But this year, I've gotten her to provide a little insight on him and who he was. 

He was a gifted guitar player (I wore a guitar pick of his pinned to my dress as my "something old" on my wedding day). He was outgoing. My mom learned to drive a "3 on the tree" from him. She says I get my free spirit from him. My creativity, my artsyness, my ability to write. And some of my stubbornness (but let's be honest, I get a lot of that from her too). 

Some days I swear I feel his presence around me. Isn't that crazy? To feel the presence of someone I've never known? 

March 4th sneaks up on me every year. My mood the few days leading up to it is often "off." I've had a great life, blessed beyond measure, but March 4th stirs up a lot of feeling and emotion within me. 

So this year, on your birthday, I'm going to commemorate you by spending an evening with my friends, at a concert (because I know you loved music, even if you wouldn't be thrilled with my choice in it). Hope you're looking down and smiling. 

Mommin' Ain't Easy

"I'm a mother. My hobbies include neglecting my hair, repeating myself over and over, daydreaming about bed time, constantly picking up my couch cushions from the floor and never peeing by myself."

The above quote is my life in a nutshell. 

Some mornings, I look at myself in the mirror and think to myself, "daaaannng girl, lookin' good!" Others, I could double as a zombie from The Walking Dead. Mornings in our household are a little hectic. Two adults trying to get themselves ready for the day on top of getting two children ready? I can tell you this, it's nothing like a morning from a Leave It To Beaver episode. There is no sitting down for breakfast as a family and talking about the day ahead. There is chaos. I have a fourth grade boy who is less than enthusiastic about getting out of bed most mornings. On more than one occasion, it's taken him more than five minutes to get his shoes on and tied. Some mornings it's followed up with "Mom, I need to read this to you," or "Tristan, why haven't you eaten your breakfast yet?" Pair that with a two year old who takes her time on the potty, sometimes even refusing to go before we need to leave. One that's got her own sense of style and doesn't always want to wear her "sparkle shoes" or sit still long enough to let you tame her wild mane. Not to mention, before walking out of the door every morning we must have ALL of the following things: 1) her blanket 2) her monkey 3) her milk and 4) her snack. 

When I first became a mom, I'd always imagined I'd be one of those moms who was good at everything. You know, the mom who schedules pictures of her kids every 6 months and has them framed and on display for everyone to see. A mom who always made homemade treats for birthdays and holidays, who had the best themed birthday parties on the block. The mom who never missed a school event. 

But...those days are in the rear view mirror. Because, quite frankly, I struggle to keep my poop in a group most days. 

I yell when I don't mean to. Sometimes it's because I'm running late, sometimes it's because I've heard "Mom" so many times I feel like I can't catch my breath. 

I forget to check backpacks.

I forget to send checks for lunch money.

My homemade Valentine's look like something you'd see on a Pinterest fails board.

I forget it's picture day and send my kid with his hair a mess.

There are days my daughter's clothes don't coordinate. Heck, sometimes she goes to daycare in her pajamas. 

Sometimes I sit in the bathroom longer than needed, just to get an extra five minutes to myself. 

I intend to make the hours between 9pm and 11pm "me time." But that time often ends with a child in my bed and the TV show that I have recorded and have been anxious to watch getting shut off and replaced by Mickey Mouse, Sofia, PJ Masks or Full House. Or the book I've been so excited to read, gets read for about five minutes before I fall asleep. And let's be honest, I'm kidding myself by even thinking that I could make it to 11pm. 

Case and point? Last Saturday evening, Jacob and I were kid-free as they were spending the night with my Mom. We went to an early dinner at 4:30 and had the whole night ahead of us! Guess who fell asleep on the couch at 8pm? Yep, me. 

And yet, despite the trying times, being a mom is the one gig I wouldn't trade for the world. 

I hope that years from now, my children look back on their childhood with fond memories. I hope remember that mom always tried, even when some days it didn't seem like it. I hope that they realize that even though there are tough times and I don't always handle mom situations well, I love being their mother. Every. Single. Minute. 

So yes, I'm going to continue to "fail." I'm going to give in to a two year old who wants cookies for breakfast. I'm going to embarrass my nine year old by yelling "I love you" out of the window of the truck while in the drop off line at school. I'm going to buy that new toy or game they want, right now, instead of making them wait for their birthday or Christmas. I'm going to let Tristan stay up past his 9pm bedtime, on a school night, to finish a movie we started. And I'm going to let a wandering two year old climb into my bed and snuggle her until she goes to sleep. 

Mommin' ain't easy, it's one hell of a ride. But dang-gone-it. It's the best ride of my life. 

Learning to Dance with A Limp

Spring - clean

verb

1. to clean (a house) thoroughly; traditionally at the end of winter

It may not be spring or the end of winter, but "spring-clean" is exactly what Saturday consisted of at Hill Haven. Saturday's cleaning session stemmed from a text message, received from my husband at 1:35am last Wednesday. It simply read: "FYI. We are getting both our children's beds set up this weekend."

You see, I'm not a "by the book" parent. I'm more of a "go with the flow and see what happens type of parent." So, it comes as no surprise that more often than not, I have a two a half year old that sleeps in my bed and a nine year old that crashes on my bedroom floor. I'll admit, it's not always the most glamorous situation (case and point on Tuesday evening/Wednesday morning when Tristan, who was not feeling well, groaned all night and his little sister flipped at least a dozen times while in my bed). 

So Saturday, we spent the day tearing down beds, setting up beds, tearing down closet doors (those awful gold trimmed mirrored doors), sorting through toys and re-arranging. Tristan's room was first and then we made our way to Brynlee's. 

While cleaning Brynlee's room, I decided to rearrange the books on her bookshelf. Both the kids and I are guilty of throwing the books in random piles and arrangements on the shelves as we put them away. In the midst of re-arranging I found a small, lime green birthday gift bag on the second shelf. Unsure of what it was, I decided to open the bag and investigate. In it I found a stack of birthday cards, one's that I'd saved from Brynlee's first and Tristan's eighth birthdays. 

Flipping through the cards, an envelope with the words "Miss Brynlee" written across it stood out among the others. It was written in handwriting that I'd recognize anywhere, handwriting that I'd seen many times over the last 28 years, my grandmother's. Inside, the following message was written, " Happy 1st birthday to someone who is so sweet and beautiful she takes our breath away. Love, Gramma Gloria"

Just like that, the tears come. 

It's been almost a year since my Grandma left this Earth. Some days it hurts so bad I can hardly stand it. 

My Grandma always kept bread ties. I never understood why but she did. She had a stash of them and by golly, she'd find a use for them. In the months since my Grandma's passing, I too have starting saving bread ties. For what I'm not sure but I can't seem to bring myself to throw them away. Maybe it's because of the smile that comes across my face every time I get into my silverware drawer and find them, a reminder of her and the memories we shared. 

My Grandma was special. And I know, everyone probably argues that same point about their own grandparents but the relationship I had with my Grandmother is one that I will cherish forever. Yes, she could drive me crazy. Heaven forbid you had mismatched sheets on your bed. My Grandma thought in black and white while I enjoy exploring the grey areas, seeing what they have to teach me. But she was there for everything, all the big moments, but more importantly, all the small ones in between. 

She was the creator of traditions - because of her we play bingo every Christmas Eve. She taught me to love being in the kitchen (even though to this day I am still a terrible cook). But hey, I'm learning. She was my biggest supporter. She believed in me. She believed that my writing was a talent and that it'd take me places. 

And it was then, seeing that envelope, reading that message, that I realized it really is true what they say. Grief does come in stages. And no matter how hard you to try to prepare yourself for grief in any of it's forms, there's going to be times when you're not ready, when you can't take it. But there's also going to be times that you find joy in the memories, that you laugh instead of crying. 

I came across a quote about grief: "You will lose someone you can't live without and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you will never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up. And you come through. It's like a having a broken leg that never heals perfectly - that still hurts when the weather gets cold but you learn to dance with the limp."

In a nutshell, yesterday was hard. My heart hurt. And the truth is, there's going to be tough days in the future. However, slowly and surely, I'm learning to dance with the limp.