'Cause You Are All That I've Waited For

(all of my life)
"Closer to Love," Mat Kearney

5 Things Tim and/or I did today to continue making our parents proud:

1) Spent $300 at Target

2) Tried all the samples (twice) at Costco, then had Costco hot dogs before leaving

3) Wrapped (almost) all of our Christmas presents (Tim)

4) Blasted a ton of new, good music in the living room and shamelessly sang along with American Idol hits (Tim)

5) Cried at the end of Cheaper by the Dozen 2 (Chelsea)

Oh, the rhythm of my heart

is beating like a drum

with the words "I love you"

rolling off my tongue...

No, never will I roam,

for I know my place is home

Where the ocean meets the sky,

I'll be sailing...

-Rod Stewart

This is My December

Linkin Park

 

 

 

 

 

Welcome, Christmas, bring your cheer!

Cheer to all Whos far and near.

Christmas Day is in our grasp

(so long as we have hands to clasp!)

Christmas Day will always be

just as long as we have we.

Welcome Christmas while we stand,

heart to heart and hand in hand.

-How the Grinch Stole Christmas; Dr. Seuss

It's Friday, I'm in Love

The Cure 

Me: Okay, bonus question! Who is on the ten dollar bill? I'll give you a hint; it's not a former president!
Jesse: Roosevelt!
Me: Um...no. Again, not a president.
Jesse: I know! I said Roosevelt!
Me: Roosevelt was a president. Two different Roosevelts, actually.
Luis: Denzel Washington?
Me:...

Your World Is What You Make It

"Through Being Cool," Saves the Day


My 6th period class this year is quirky and different. Inquisitive and impatient. Funny and bright. It took us a little while to get to where we are, and we still have work to do, but they crack me up all the time. We're currently reading Lord of the Flies; we're finishing on Friday. A few memorable clips from our recent discussions: 

Me: Yes! Good! Piggy represents knowledge and insight. And then, ultimately, what happens to him?
Austin: They kill him. So...it's like they're killing knowledge and insight!  
Me: Exactly! And, if you read his death scene again, it's actually also somewhat literal. In the third paragraph of page 178, Golding writes, "His head opened and stuff came out."
Summer: Sick.
Me: I know, it's gross. And sad. But think about what it represents...
Juan: The knowledge is gone. Like, it actually fell out.
Kyle: So, I guess you could say Piggy lost his mind. I mean, really.

*          *         *          *          *

Kyle: Didn't you say there are like 30 boys on the island?
Me: Yes.
Kyle: Then how does just one pig feed all of them? And they even have food leftover.
Me: Well, the pig they killed isn't a little pink pig like Wilbur. We're talking a big huge pig...a wild boar...like Pumbaa. 
Amy: Awww.
Me: Yeah. Sorry.  
Caleb: Um, Pumbaa was a warthog.
Me: Whatever. I'm using it as a size comparison. 
Amy: Timon was a meerkat.
Kyle: What is the difference between a wild boar and a warthog?
Me: I actually have no idea. Probably not much. At least in terms of size. Okay, let's keeping reading.

*          *         *          *          *

Me: What do you think? Would this really happen if a group of boys were stranded on a deserted island?
Logan: I don't think so. I don't think people would actually get that violent. It might get a little crazy, but no one would get killed.
Austin: I think people would die. I mean, think about how annoying some people get.
Me: True, but are the boys that are killed in Lord of the Flies killed because they are annoying?
Justin: No...they're killed because some of the boys are savages. They aren't following the rules Ralph set up.
Me: Right. Ralph tried to set up a democracy. It didn't really work out that well...the rules and procedures he tried to set up aren't being followed.
Austin: That's because democracy is stupid. People need dictators. Fascism is the way to go...that's what we should have here.

Mountains and Oceans and Winters and Rivers and Stars

"Funny the Way it Is," Dave Matthews Band

Call it a clan, 

call it a network, 

call it a tribe, 

call it a family.  

Whatever you call it, 

whoever you are, 

you need one.  

~Jane Howard

"Your first Thanksgiving as a married couple! Choices, choices...did you spend it with his parents or with your parents?" 

I was asked this question Tuesday, back to school from a long and relaxing break. My response was quick, somewhat robotic, halted: "Actually, both...We were in Santa Barbara with my family, and his family came up." Really, it was a half-truth: Yes, we were in Santa Barbara, but it wasn't all of Tim's parents that came up, but rather his dad and step-mom. His mom and step-dad weren't there. And my dad wasn't there. And my answer left me questioning why I answered the way I did. Was it too much of a hassle to explain the entire scenario, or was I ashamed? Was I embarrassed to admit both my and Tim's lives, from a glance, are far from Leave it To Beaver; intertwined with step-families and sometimes heart-breaking choices regarding where to spend holidays? Was I frustrated by my inability to answer the aforementioned question with a simple "my parents' house" or "his parent's house?" because our families' lives just don't fit into a quick and simple response? It was a question I thought about at multiple junctures throughout the rest of the day, and a variety of potential answers and excuses arose. But through all of it, my mind was nagged by a consistent and real truth: While Tim and I, technically, are  "products of divorce," the phrase hardly covers the way I define my upbringing and my family. My mom and dad are incredible people; unique, undefinable, supportive, passionate. With the exception of a few (unavoidable) frustration-filled and angst-ridden years in high school, I have always held both of my parents in the highest regard. They've been my biggest fans and my staunchest supporters for as long as I can remember. Together or apart, they put their differences aside in the name of my brother and I. Meanwhile, my step-dad entered my life once I was out of high school. At 19, I was a full-time know-it-all and constant-questioner-of-authority, and my poor step-dad had his work cut out for him when it came to forging a relationship with me. And yet, he steadfastly held to the notion my mother was a package deal; in order to find true happiness with her, his relationships with both my brother and I needed to be truthful, full, and independent of her. Because of that, our connection is positive, meaningful, and real today.


And so this Thanksgiving, while of course I'm thankful for Tim, his family, our friends, our health, our dog, and our happiness in general, I'm especially thankful for:


My dad and my brother, who manage to make me laugh, challenge my wit, and drive me crazy; sometimes all at once:

My mom and my step-dad, who taught (continue to) teach me what it takes to build a friendship and a love into a marriage and a life: 

And my step-sisters and step-brother, who have showed me siblings don't have to be blood-related:

The family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to.   

~Dodie Smith

My Soul is Sound When I'm in My Hometown

"My Town," Buck-O-Nine

Thanksgiving Break is officially here. We're heading to my dad's ranch in a few hours, until Monday morning, and then I'm heading straight to Santa Barbara. I can't wait to be home...can't wait to meet the family's new dog, can't wait to walk on State Street with the perfect Christmas lights and smells and sounds, can't wait to have a beer at Brew House, a sandwich at Fresco, and a Blenders; extra vanilla. My siblings will all be home, too, which is awesome. My sisters, who are adorable and silly:

And my brothers, who...well, shave our family's cats in their spare time:

Another Autumn; A Traveler's Guide

"Summer Teeth," Wilco

Sometimes my job is excruciating. Sometimes my kids challenge my patience and push my limits and break my heart. There are kids I worry about, kids I get frustrated by, kids I get angry at, and kids I feel sorry for. But most of the time (and at the risk of sounding like a sappy cliche), teaching is such a reward. My students crack me up, make me proud, challenge my intellect, and amaze me every day. It's the week before Thanksgiving break, and I'm feeling pulled in a million directions, buried under thousands of essays, and utterly exhausted. I'm ready for a break. But then something like this happens: I come home from a run, and before I make dinner and dive into grading two class sets of independent novel assignments, I Google "East of Eden excerpts." Because I'm teaching it for the first time in the spring to my Honors sophomores, and I should probably, you know, read it before then. And this passage comes up as one of the first links:

Our species is the only creative species, and it has only one creative instrument, the individual mind and spirit of a man. Nothing was ever created by two men. There are no good collaborations, whether in music, in art, in poetry, in mathematics, in philosophy. Once the miracle of creation has taken place, the group can build and extend it, but the group never invents anything. The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.

And now the forces marshaled around the concept of the group have declared a war of extermination on that preciousness, the mind of man. By disparagement, by starvation, by repressions, forced direction, and the stunning hammerblows of conditioning, the free, roving mind is being pursued, roped, blunted, drugged. It is a sad suicidal course our species seems to have taken.

And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual. This is what I am and what I am about. I can understand why a system built on a pattern must try to destroy the free mind, for that is the one thing which can by inspection destroy such a system. Surely I can understand this, and I hate it and I will fight against it to preserve the one thing that separates us from the uncreative beasts. If the glory can be killed, we are lost.

And then it really doesn't matter that I'm tired, and overworked, and underpaid. Because THIS is the stuff I get to read, and analyze, and share with other individuals on a daily basis. I get to make a living by enjoying and discussing Steinbeck. I get to hear kids respond to the epitome of masterpiece prose and intellectual stimulus. The essays and the dog-ate-my-homework-and-my-printer-broke excuses are totally worth it.

Just About the Break of Day

"Early in the Morning," Eric Clapton

Tamarack Beach; Dawn

Cause I like where I’m livin’ . . .
And I like what I do . . .
And I like what I’m seein’ . . .
When I’m lookin’ at you . .
I still like what I’m saying . . .
When I open my face.
I think I got the right feeling.
I think I’m in the right place.

-"The Right Place," Monsters of Folk

In Defense of Our Dreams

"Kings and Queens," 30 Seconds to Mars 

When Jimmy Buffett blasts the line: "Sometimes I wish I was back in my crashpad days, 'fore I knew what cash flow meant" into my iPod, I can certainly relate-- (unlike him, I'm sure). Everyday I see dozens of "For Sale" signs broadcasting the availability of a new condo or house, and sometimes I cringe at our current inability to seize upon the opportunity. There are lots of things I want to do before I die, and own a home (or a condo. Or apartment. Or a livable storage space) is one of the them. Other items I wish to someday check off my Bucket List:

• Raise a family. Can't wait. But not quite yet. 
  
• Memorize all the state and country capitals. So far, I'm done with the U.S. This, of course, makes me an excellent guest at parties.
  
• Travel to every continent. Except maybe Antarctica. I don't really have any desire to go to Antarctica. Andrew Denton said, "If Antarctica were music it would be Mozart. Art, and it would be Michelangelo. Literature, and it would be Shakespeare. And yet it is something even greater; the only place on earth that is still as it should be. May we never tame it." I agree with him. I like the idea that a pristine, hardly-touched piece of land still exists somewhere in this over-industrialized and under-appreciated world. I just don't need to go there to realize it.
• See U2, Rod Stewart, and The Killers live. I have to admit, I've been to lots of really great shows in my life. Aside from the hundreds (okay, dozens? My mom says I have an exaggeration problem) of punk shows I saw in college (as well the arbitrary slough of shows I saw in high school, like Third Eye Blind, Sugar Ray, Dishwalla, etc.) I've seen Dave Matthews Band (x2), Jack Johnson (x3?), John Mayer (x3?), Counting Crows, Ben Harper (x2), Black-Eyed Peas, Jason Mraz (x3), Steel Pulse, LOTS of country shows, and many others I'm blanking on right now. In terms of more "classic" type shows, I've seen Bryan Adams, Jimmy Buffett, Tom Petty, Garth Brooks, Madonna, and The Eagles (second row center! Better seats than Bill Walton!) BUT, there are still three bands left on my see-before-I-die list. 
• Write a book. It doesn't have to be published. It doesn't have to be read by all kinds of people. Really, it doesn't even have to be good. I just want to be able to finish it. 
• See Les Miserables live. Because I'm a little bit of a Showtunes fiend, I've been lucky enough to see a variety of live, professional performances: The Phantom of the Opera, The Lion King, 42nd Street (twice!), Mamma Mia, Aida, West Side Story, Newsies, The King and I, and of course Rent (x5...nothing can even come close). However, I've never seen Les Mis live, and it's something I've wanted to do for at least a decade. No matter how many times I listen to the soundtrack, I get goosebumps at the end of "Do You Hear the People Sing?"
  
• Cage dive with great white sharks. Trips leave from Ensenada; out to Guadalupe Island for five days. Cost is about $2,500-3,000, but Tim has friends on the boat, and can probably go as a crew member. I'm MUCH more afraid of spending five nights on a boat than I am of being in the water with a white shark...

I like that I don't quite know what's next for us. I like that my days, months, years--my life-- doesn't feel planned out, and I don't feel the need to adhere to a specific road map. Maybe we'll one day take our kids backpacking through Europe. Maybe we'll run a vineyard. Maybe we'll never own the two-story house with the spiral staircase that floats on the edge of my childhood fantasies. Maybe Tim's second car will be an ambulance. Maybe I'll still be teaching high school English in thirty years and loving it. There's so much possibility, hope, freedom, and beauty in the not-knowing. 

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in. 

-Anthem, Leonard Cohen
 

COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT/UNRELATED SIDENOTE: Sometimes I pretend not to notice Bailey peed in the house until rightbefore I go to work, which means I'm so sorry, but I don't have time to clean it up! I'm posting this here because I can: Tim doesn't read "our" blog, therefore it serves him right to miss out on my intermittent confessions.

We've All Got Scars as Big as Ours...

...A token for the pain we hide inside of us
Everyone's scared that somebody knows
You push it aside, yeah, that's how it goes
If you've ever heard a beating heart
A rhythm for the songs we're too afraid to sing
Nobody here is perfectly fine
A delicate frame, a fragile design

-"Nothing's Bigger Than Love," My Favorite Highway

I had three tough talks with three different kids today, outside of class time. Kids who are hurting. Lost. Angry. Afraid. Kids who are making poor choices and know it. Kids who feel like the world isn't on their side and they don't have anybody in their corner. And, honestly, it was really hard to discern care whether or not they could tell the difference between a "when" adverb and a "to what extent" adverb.  Needless to say, I've been thinking about these kids a lot today, and in turn it's made me think about how, so often, happiness is a simple choice. That's not to say I don't completely empathize with my students and strive so intently to make their lives richer and more promising, but I do think it's important for people, of all ages, to endeavor to make the conscious choice to let themselves be happy.

It's so easy to let the deconstructive words and thoughts seep into our reactions. So easy to let life's minor intricacies or delays twist and distort into downbeat, sometimes even destructive patterns of a day. Sometimes, it's such a choice to shape the way we remember a morning, a phone call, or a facial expression. Sometimes, I have to remind myself to focus on the good, and the improving, and the hopeful, rather than the fear and anxiety and regret. In Bless Me, Ultima, Rudolfo Anaya writes, "the tragic consequences of life can be overcome by the magical strength that resides in the human heart." And he's right. The abilities to react, interact, rebound, and choose are so uniquely human, but in order to experience this "magical strength," people must choose to open their hearts to happiness.

I think I do a pretty good job of looking at the glass half full. But sometimes, I know I worry too much. About school. And grades. And lesson plans. MLA format and concrete details. Seeing enough of my family. Of Tim's family. Tim's new job. Keeping in touch with friends. Forgetting to grocery shop. The cyst on Bailey's back. Getting a dentist appointment. Calling AT&T.

And it's then I have to stop. And take a breath. Because my life is a good one, and the (sometimes arbitrary) worries that cloud my mind vanish like stardust when I start thinking about everything I have to be thankful for. Like my health. And my family. And Tim. My friends. A job I love and still get excited about. Dense fog and hot chocolate on an early November night. The fact that Bud Light Lime now comes in a can. Our new fish tank. Living a block from the beach. Bocce ball in the park on a warm fall day. Knowing all the words to "We Didn't Start the Fire." SVU re-runs. Margaritas with extra salt. Running in the dark under the streetlamps, listening to the crashing waves. My students' jokes and laughter.

I can't "fix" all my kids. I can't be the glue or the puzzle piece or the duct tape that magically makes their hurt and frustration and sadness go away. I can't mend broken hearts or fill empty promises or erase spiteful words. But I can offer a listening ear and be a voice of reason. I can give encouragement and remind them that no matter who or what has ailed them on any given day, they are the sole people in charge of whether or not they choose happiness. And hopefully, that's enough.

“Happiness is like a butterfly: the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder…”

– Thoreau

'Neath the Cover of October Skies

Moondance," Van Morrison

Three weeks ago, we flew to Rocklin for Lindsey and Matt's wedding. The entire weekend was just perfect, and Linds and Matt were glowing the whole time:

Tim and I arrived Friday, and spent Friday night at Aunt Robin's house for cocktails, music, and hanging out. Good food and company were beyond plentiful:

Siblings

 Sisters

Arbitrary yager shots

The next day, Saturday, was the wedding rehearsal, and there was a palpable excitement in the air:

Eventually, we made our way to a local softball field, where we played softball for hours. Everyone had a blast:

 Sunday was the wedding day. Love, excitement, and celebration surrounded every minute. Lindsey was beautiful, calm, and collected all morning, and she was an absolutely stunning bride. It was the perfect day, and I was so honored to be a part of it. Matt and Linds are lucky to have found one another, and I know they have a lifetime of happiness ahead of them. Welcome to our crazy, chaotic, and amazing family, Matt!

Congratulations Matt and Linds! We love you!

Your eyes shine through me

You are so divine to me

Your heart has a home in mine

We won't have to say a word

With a touch all shall be heard

When I search my heart it's you I find

-Beloved One, Ben Harper

Got a Devil's Haircut in My Mind

 Beck

This week, because I'm cheap and efficient opulent and swanky, I went to Supercuts for a haircut. I've never been a fan of expensive, drawn-out salon visits (see: my hockey-baseball-fort-building-tree-climbing childhood), and so up until a few years ago my mom cut my hair. This choice doesn't have to do with saving money (although that is a plus), but rather with sheer laziness. I upgraded to the much-fancier "Campus Cuts" in college (yes, that's the one located IN the UCLA student store), and have since been a regular at any local Supercuts ("regular" is a term I apparently use loosely, as I venture into one of the establishments approximately once every 6-8 months). Without fail, my hair-cutter pretends to (poorly, I might add) hide her shock once she learns I only buy grocery store shampoo and conditioner! And don't deep condition once every 10-14 days! Inevitably, sometimes even before my haircut is over, I am led to the wall of "magic" products, all of which promise to cure split ends and solve world hunger. Inevitably, also, I pretend to "think about it" and perhaps "come by later in the week to pick some up." (This is a new and improved tactic, since up until about a year ago, my shame and guilt usually found me leaving Supercuts with 5 new conditioning balms, a reduced bank account, and a little less dignity).

So on Tuesday I got a haircut. The girl who cut my hair sliced about an inch off the bottom, re-did what she thought "were maybe an attempt at some layers?", and cut my bangs. However, apparently I misunderstood her, because I could have sworn when I answered "yes," the question had been: "So do you want your bangs to kind of look like mine?" rather than "Do you want me to close my eyes and pretend I am a scissor-wielding toddler?"  Due to this miscommunication, my awesome bangs now look like this:

I guess what they say is true; you get what you pay for. Compared to what I know many of my friends pay for haircuts, Supercuts is a steal.

However, I probably should be out spending that saved money on hats and headbands.

The Summer's Out of Reach...

"Boys of Summer," Don Henley

Me: Cliches are basically phrases that are so overused, they've lost their meanings and don't sound like formal language. You never want to use them in formal writing. Somebody give me an example...you guys might want to write the examples down in your notes.
Bree: I can't move a muscle.
Ethan: All's well that ends well.
Zach: ...like having sex on prom night.
Me: Please don't write that in your notes.

Me: Okay, there's a little more background information I want you to have before we start reading. Please take out a piece of paper.
Mike: More notes? Dude, you're killing me, brah.
Me: Excuse me. Did you just call me "bro?"
Mike: No. I called you "brah."

I think it's going to be a good year...

Skies Are Painted Colors in the Cowboy Cliche

Didn't have a camera by my side this time
Hoping I would see the world through both my eyes
Maybe I will tell you all about it when I'm
In the mood to lose my way with words
-3x5, John Mayer

On my run along the Carlsbad bluffs tonight, right at the point where I usually turn around, I stopped almost suddenly to look out at the water. The sun was settling just above the horizon line, a giant globe of reds and oranges and other colors that completely obliterate the spectrum and can't be defined by simple words and token shades. The tide was low, and people speckled the sand; kids searching for sandcrabs in overturned rocks and couples holding hands in the light, lapping surf. A line of seagulls flew overhead, and a few surfers paddled lazily farther out to sea, seeking the day's perfect set before heading home. In that instant, I found myself wishing I had my camera. I wanted to capture this moment; these little intricacies of the sun and sand and sea that remind me why I love the coast. I wanted to freeze the picture before me for eternity; bottle it up in a postcard on the refrigerator or frame on the wall. But then, I realized a big part of the beauty in front of me lie in the mere fact scenes like these aren't able to be frozen in a photograph. You can't "summarize" a scene, much like you can't really summarize a novel (Hemingway would cringe in his grave if he found a student trying to sum up A Farewell to Arms in a matter of abbreviations and muddled clauses). A photograph can't imprison the way salt air smells minutes before the sun dips under the horizon. It can't memorize and recall the way birds soar effortlessly through the sky, slicing a thin black line into the otherwise perfectly blended copper and apricot horizon. And then, ironically, I was so glad I didn't have my camera. Instead, I wanted to breathe in the moment in front of me; recognize and appreciate the fleetingness of time and space and life.

A typical (how can a sunset EVER be typical?) Carlsbad sunset looks like this:



It's entrancing and magic and almost as surreal as a Key West one (or even Santa Barbara, for that matter, but there'll never be a sunset in the world that compares to one of those). But I didn't take that picture. I was too busy appreciating the world through "both my eyes," taking in the sounds and smells and each one of the sights, which happen to extend far beyond the realm of any lens.

(Today I finally overcame
Trying to fit the world inside a picture frame...)

You'll Shoot the Moon, Put Out the Sun...

"When You Love Someone," Bryan Adams

"Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in."
-American Beauty

Two weeks ago Tim and I were married. It was a beautiful whirlwind weekend full of family, friends, love, dancing, tears, seashells, memories, stories, and chaotic perfection. Friends have been asking me to post about it, and I have to admit; I've tried. And, honestly, it just seems as if I can't. I stumble over and lose my words when I try to describe details of the rehearsal breakfast. I fumble with adjectives as I explain what an incredible feeling it is to watch Tim's college friends introduce themselves to my cousins. Yes, we went wine tasting on Friday. Yes, other people (Tim and his groomsmen included) golfed. Yes, my mom and step-dad hosted a party that night...Yes, I can post pictures taken Friday at the vineyards, at the golf course, and at Cedar Street:







But it's much harder to describe the beauty of watching my mom reconnect with my aunt, uncle, and cousins after ten years. The feel of the sun on my back, glass of good pinot in hand, surveying the scene of my present and past: friends from different arenas of my life blending into each other, soaking up the sweeping vistas and one another's laughter. My dad discussing music with my college friends; my step-dad confidently introducing himself to my dad's family; my fiance laughing so hard with his college buddies a mist of tears springs to his eyes...these are fleeting moments I've tucked away into the confines of my heart; glimpses into one of those days I could re-live forever...

And then there was the wedding rehearsal Saturday, and then a Bloody Mary-and-eggs benedict-filled brunch, and then a beach day complete with a PA system and a How's it Hangin' tournament, and a night out at Union Ale. And once again, my words fail me:







Because it's not every day your best friends come together, from multiple corners of the country, to practice walking down the aisle in celebration of you. It's not every day your mom, dad, and step-dad mingle at brunch and talk about their swelling pride and the welfare of the dogs. It's not every day the friends from each and every part of your life (times TWO!) come together on the sand in your honor.

And then your wedding day arrives. And you're ecstatic. And giddily nervous. And terrified. And the bravest you've ever been. And you wonder what he's doing. You get ready with your best friends. And your mom looks so beautiful--and proud--and you realize, with every piece of everything you are, that she's the biggest part of you, and the model for who you one day hope to be. And you cry-- such emotional, happy tears.

And you wonder, again, what he's doing.
And then it's time to go.

So you get in the limo.
And you take pictures.
And you fret over whether or not you should have champagne.
And you compliment your bridesmaids, and you mean it, because they are all stunning and brilliant.
And you wonder where he is and what he's doing.
And then you get there.
And you see all the people.
And your heart stops, and that courage you were so sure of only moments ago leaves you for a few cursory seconds.

And then...your dad is there. And your composure comes sidling back slowly. And you vaguely hear the familiar music you picked out months ago. Your dad is crying, and he's holding out his arm. And you hug him, and you don't even try to hold back the tears. Because it's not worth it. And anyway, if you do, it's not real.

And then you see him. He's waiting for you. And you can't hear the music anymore. You can't see the people. He's the only person in the whole world and-- it's just like they said!-- you've never been so sure of anything before. Everything in the universe other than this single moment fades to mere triviality. You hug your dad tightly and refuse to hide your tears. Your mom said it best: People, relationships, places, and feelings change, and that's what makes them so magnificent. Change is a constant, and the fact individuals and experiences grow and change is what makes life so poignant and beautiful. Experiences are fleeting, and we have to remember to cherish each one...
You hear his heart above any other sound, and you look into his eyes because it's the safest place you've ever been. His vows melt like butter into your hands, and suddenly its hard to breathe because there just aren't any words fitting enough to express what you need them to. Your lives have become so entwined its hard to know where his stories stop and yours start...and sometimes you're not sure you want the ability to differentiate.

And then...you're married...and it's the most right thing you've ever done in your whole life.



And in a white sea of eyes
I see one pair that I recognize
And I know

That I am
(I am)
(I am)
The luckiest

(I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you)
-"The Luckiest," Ben Folds