fluff. and grammatical errors.

Sometimes I sit and stare at that little orange B that falls first on my bookmark toolbar:

The Red Umbrella.

Those three words bring so many different emotions.

Sometimes guilt. Because I know it's been so long. I can almost hear it calling my name, begging me to come back. And stay a while.

Sometimes longing to bury my eyes and fingertips in its fresh pages. Renew hope I wasn't sure existed.

Sometimes healing for past wounds and future set backs.

And other times, or rather, most times, utmost gratitude for the countless moments of complete solitude spent discovering some of life's most precious lessons.

And then I go on. not clicking. because i don't know what to say. where to start. how to finish.

So I pass it by.

The guilt in my heart only continuing to grow. The longing of my fingertips twitching with defeat. And the healing of sometimes unknown hurts begging to surround me.

But not today folks.

Today, believe it or not,

i. clicked.

Not because I have something profound to say. Some sort of healing I know I need to experience. And certainly not because I hope the cure of a ruthless headache and angry intestines lies within its walls.

Mostly just because... I want to be here.

right. here.

with you.

After all, we've been through a lot together.

More than anyone or anything else in my life.

And that's saying something- I mean, my childhood dog spent 16 of my 21 years of life being one of the only ones around...

RIP Abby.

anyway.

i dont feel like punctuating. or following any grammatical guidelines.

#sorrybutnotsorry

i just feel like being me. laying in bed with a bun on top of my unwashed hair. my hubs big sweatshirt. and bare feet. in my warm sheets. listening to one direction. and loving it.

okay?

A few things.

I loved halloween. 

And I never even told you about it.

We had a fun halloween party. I made these cute cookies.

And homemade broccoli and cheese soup. it was delicious. shout out to my cousin for the incredible recipe.
 
We were Lucille Ball and Ricky Ricardo. Pretty clever I thought. Yes I am tooting my own horn. But really I'm not because it was my blondie's brilliant idea. So I'm tooting his horn. ew not like that gross.

Check it out:

Oh and Christmas? best one yet. One of my fav's from the night:

I love him. And Christmas with him was.... literally magic. One I won't ever forget.

Annnnnd... it's almost Valentine's Day.

I'm kinda excited.

Okay scratch that. i'm ecstatic.

which is weird.

cuz i am usually not that big of a v-day fan.

but i kind of get excited to celebrate the fact that i've got a bestie to love. and one that loves me.

so i guess that makes me really excited.

happy february.

I have been doing really good at not biting my fingernails lately. so good i painted them red. and we all know i can't do that unless they are pretty long or else they just look like sausage fingers. so... be impressed.

i've gained 5 pounds since christmas. just throwin it out there. sometimes i try and convince myself it's only 4 but that's basically only first thing in the morning when my stomach is eating itself so... 5 it is. just love me. i'm working on it okay?

Oh speaking of, I am doing Zumba. and it is hilarious. Last week we did Gangham Style. Needless to say, Tuesday and Thursday have become some of my new favorite nights.

Besides the fact Dave doesn't get home till 10:40 pm. go basketball!!

Oh and we are going to Hawaii in T-minus 4 months and 14 days.

that's all i can say right now or I might pee from excitement.

sorry dad, i meant "wet"...

basically what i'm trying to say is: life is good.

not any easier than usual. just straight up good.

joy in the simple things.

"Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he's been robbed. The fact is that most putts don't drop, most beef is tough, most children grow up to just be people, most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration, most jobs are more often dull than otherwise... The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride." 

- President Gordon B. Hinckley

Thanks for finding joy with me when I couldn't find it alone. Thanks for caring. Thanks for being who you are.

you and me will forever be connected.

The Red Umbrella. 

Ah. 

Today- it's relief. and a sense of home in the realest (grammatical errors are okay remember?) way possible. 

from my bed to yours,
see you again soon my friend.

very.

very.

soon.

R.

little things and hallmark cards.

This past month has been a blur.

Between work and school and internship and school and labs and holidays... I've hardly had time to breathe.

Or sleep.

Or see the guy I lay next to at night. My husband I think he's called?

So I've learned a few things.

I've learned to love when D forgets a lunch and pops in at home to make a quick sandwich. Or grab a yogurt.

I've learned to appreciate late nights at the library because it means we are together.

I've learned to love good food. And real dinners. Because we never have a chance to eat them.

I've learned to smile when I see the bathroom rug without wet footprints or shower curtain left closed, because I know how hard he tries.

I've learned to recognize the tries, and the I'll do better's because that's all we have to give.

I've learned to savor Sundays because it's the one day we get to spend together.

I've learned to call home often, because my heart aches for my family.

I've learned to appreciate the Internet, because we don't have it at home.

I've learned to rely on my husband for everything. Because we are all each other's got.

I've learned to hold his hand when I am scared. Unsure. Confused. Or let down.

I've learned how much I need his silliness. And how much he needs mine.

I've learned that it's okay if the house is messy. And dinner isn't made.
(Okay fine.. I'm still working on that one...)

I've learned to crave Ramen Noodles. Really. I have.

I've learned to treasure the little voices that say, "I miss you," "Wuv you" and "Me tum your house pease? K two minutes"

I've learned that life is different now. But still so much the same.

I've learned to cherish every moment I spend with my very best friends. Because they don't come easy anymore. (You know who you are) 

I've learned to love crafts because it makes time pass on lonely nights.

I've learned to love graduation. Every. Single. Day.

I've learned that expectations change.

I've learned about me. What I need. And what I don't.

But most of all, I've learned to love the little things. 

Every.

Single.

One.

Because it is in those little things, that greatness comes. Trust develops. Love deepens. Hearts soften. Bad days turn bright. Tears become laughter. And strength for another day renews.

Those moments that make me sigh at the end of the day, with frazzled hair and a grumbling tummy and say,  
"I'll do better, try harder.. tomorrow"

(Sound like a Hallmark card yet?)

It's true. It's the little things that keep me going.

Because at the end of every single day, maybe sometimes week, it's all worth it.

I get to lay down next to my best friend. He holds my hand. Brushes the hair from my face. Wipes my tears. Laughs with me. Rubs my back. Lets me be ugly when I don't feel like being pretty. Buys me Lady Antebellum Christmas CD's and my favorite brand of nail polish. Because he knows how much I'll love it. Loves every single thing I cook (Or lies to me if he doesn't...). Opens my car door. Says sorry when he shouldn't have to. Pours my cereal when I'm in a hurry. Gives me a hug like he hasn't hugged me in weeks every night when he gets home.

And is always happy to see me.

That is something worth fighting for. Worth getting up early for when you really want to sleep in and run away from responsibility. It's worth pushing harder. Working longer. Staying later.

Oh and would you fancy that.

Happy 3 months to my favorite blondie out there.

I can't wait for forever with you.

xoxo

R.

stumped.

Disclaimer: Beware. Raw material ahead.

Ya know what I despise?

anger.

it's like sitting around a campfire watching the raging flames seer holes through the wood, and feeling the smoke burn your lungs, sting your eyes, and blur your vision.

frustration.
hurt.
pain.

being cold. 

and no matter how many layers or how long you stand in the sun, or how high your socks are you just can't ever get warm. 

bitterness.
fear.
confusion.
long days.

allergies.

the itching. burning. rubbing. aching. pulsing. exhaustion. that wears on for m.o.n.t.h.s. without end.

fights.
headaches.
traffic.
tears.
bruises.
sore throats.
attitudes.

sleepless nights. 

staring into the darkness with begging eyes and a wrung out heart. Wishing sleep would wrap it's arms around you and hold you tight until the sun warms your cheeks. Psh. Only in fairytales.

disrespect.
profanity.
selfishness.
bills.
goodbyes.
regret.

And doubts.

Doubts of my own abilities.
Doubts of my own knowledge. and feelings. and heart.

I despise it all. every last bit of it.

And sometimes I feel all of that. Sometimes I get angry. fight. hurt. cry. give up. give in. regret. doubt. and in the end... wind up broken and confused. Don't you? And you lie there thinking what is this really all about? Life. This crazy roller coaster of life.

What if we all just...

Came down.
Let go.
Understood.

why.is.it.so.hard.

How about you... do you ever feel that way? (Tell me it's not just me...)


Do I write for sympathy? For comfort and reassurance from somebody out there? No. In all honesty, I don't. I probably shouldn't even write at times like this. But that's just it.

That's what fuels me.

Rawness. Reality. Security.

I can write whatever I feel and that's okay. It won't judge me or make me feel crazy. It will ebb and flow and etch comfort into my soul.

It's my safe place. my rescue. my haven.

The one place on this earth I can be me. In every aspect. And it's okay.

So stop here if you need to. Really. I understand. Sometimes it's too much for people and I respect that. Truly.

As for the rest of you, buckle up and let's figure this out together. What do ya say?

Sometimes we get stumped.

As parents. students. sisters. brothers. wives. husbands. children. friends.

We don't know where to go, or how to get there.

We yearn for something great. An answer. A cure-all. That light bulb that will one day switch on and say, "you're patience has prevailed: this is how you do it. this is how you carry on." 

... right?

Well shoot. I hate to break it to you, to me, but... I don't think that's gonna happen.

But oh how I wish it would. Just every now and then. Just grab my hand and say- it's okay. Come this way. Say this. Hold out for that. And it will all be alright.

It will all be alright. 

I want to be that little girl running to her mom with a skinned up knee and runny nose.
I want to wrap up in that blanket. And close the shutters.
I want to hold that little baby in my arms and hush their hurting cry. Calm their unknown fears.
I want to tell that mother of that teen that they will one day understand. Remember. Cherish. and do.
I want to make that glass of hot cocoa. Curl up by the fire. Grab a book. And close the world out. Just for a little while. 

I want it to all be alright.

Because I've been there. I know what it feels like.

I've felt the loving arms of my mom as she kisses it all better.
I've found that blanket.
Held that little baby.
Been that teenager.
Drank that hot cocoa.
Read that book.

And felt alright.

And so have you. Remember? We've done it before. We've made it through hard things. 
We've healed our broken hearts. Cleared up our confusion. Said sorry. Let go of the anger, bitterness, and hurt. We've clocked out of those long days and found eventual sleep on those sleepless nights. The allergies stopped. (right? tell me they have or else I swear I won't make it through the next few months...). The tears dried. The bills got paid and the selfishness gave in.

And most of all, we felt alright.

So whose to say we can't do it again?

Let's give our trust back to whom it belongs. The one who knows us best. Who knows what we are capable of. What we need. What will, in the long run, through thick and thin, help us become something different. Something better.

He knows you. and me.

He loves us.

Let's let Him in together shall we? Let Him heal us.

Let Him take care of the worry over our child. husband. wife. friend. sister. brother. parent.

Let Him help us feel alright.

I pledge. At least to try.

You in?

Now let's go make some cocoa.

From my glass to yours,

R.

And our hands stayed clasped.

Sometimes music triggers.

It triggers that hidden spot deep down inside of me.

The one that craves creativity. Variety. Uniqueness. And emotion.

The one that surfaces when I write.

And sometimes late at night.

The one I wish would surface every day. Yet not at the same time.

Because then it would lose it's light. It wouldn't be as... intriguing.

It wouldn't send me chasing after it, yearning to feel it's power in my chest as my fingers rapidly move to keep up.

The one that limits me from writing whenever I want.

Because it requires a trigger. Something to jolt me out of reality for just a moment. Just a sliver of time to watch as the lenses on my eyes adjust, and expand ever so slightly.

Broadening my horizon.
Focusing my priorities.
Then spitting me right back into life.

Just. a. little. bit. different. than. before.

And today, that trigger lies deep within my veins pumping emotion throughout my entire body.

Thank you Christina Perry.

Because that just opened the best day of my life.

8.28.12.

Sometimes I sit in wonder that it came. Was here. And left.

All in a matter of blinks.

I remember the night before like it was yesterday.

I remember driving to our wedding dinner, and the countless faces of friends and family.

I remember the hearts of those I held closest, filled with emotion that night.

I remember the drive home. The surreal feeling of the next morning.

I remember my last kiss goodnight as Rachel Henriksen. A small tear threatening escape from my lashes.

I remember closing the door with butterflies and knots all at the same time.

I remember the feeling as I was wrapped in the love of my siblings and parents while they gave me words of advice. And pure, utmost wisdom.


They looked into the eyes of their baby. And I looked into the eyes of my heroes. Each a part of me. A very real, defining part of me.

I remember laying in bed. Staring at the ceiling. Breathing in. And breathing ouuuuuuuuuuuuutttttt. Closing my eyes. And saying goodnight to the world as I knew it for the last time.

And then, it began. 

My alarm went off, and I didn't snooze (Believe me- that never happens).

The shower felt like a thousand kisses on my skin as I stood in wonder at the day ahead.

Angels surrounded me. Doing my hair. Doing my makeup. Making me breakfast. Capturing pivotal moments. Telling me I looked beautiful in those perfect three-year-old ways. Smiling at me. Giving me hugs. And kisses.

They primped and pampered. Comforted. Assured....and reassured. Complimented. Validated. Calmed. And loved.

I will never forget those angels. You know who you are.

Before I knew it I was out the door, on my way to be eternally sealed to the man I love most.

What?!

That. Was. Unreal. 

Yet so, incredibly comforting.

 My eyes met his from across the street and my world was quiet. (Seriously. Like that slow-mo moment in every chick flick)

He smiled that crooked smile I love. And I smiled it right back.

It was here. We made it. 

No more planning. No more we'll never make it's. No more emails, mailed checks, and ribbon tying.
This was us. Our time. Our day.

Mmmm. That hug was exhilarating. The butterflies hit... And we. were. pumped.

The next hour was whirlwind and the next thing I knew I was sitting with my hubby to be, hand in hand, on a couch in one of the most beautiful rooms I have ever seen. Feeling completely at peace. (My hands were freezing. And I think my entire body was shaking. Yet, peaceful nonetheless.) 

I will never forget looking into the blue eyes of my best friend and committing to love him for eternity. And hearing him commit right back.

Ever.

The hours flew quickly and faces came and went.
We cut the cake.
We danced.
And danced.
And danced.
My smile wore on, and so did his.
Our eyes spoke an understanding only we could share.
And our hands stayed clasped. 

Things went wrong I'm sure.
I could've done things different. Better maybe.
I could've changed things.
Tried harder.
But so many more went right, that nothing else mattered.

I was there, with my husband. 

My one and only. My other half.

I can't express enough the love we felt that night.
The support that does, and will continue to, boid us up when our days get tough.
Smiles so genuine I can't help but remember.

People came from all over. They sacrificed for me, for us. They forgave the little things. And remembered the big.

It was perfect.
He was my knight in shining armor.
And still is.

He has my heart.

And I have his.

And we will cling to that as long as... well... forever.

So thank you.

Thank you to all those who came. Participated. Loved. Laughed. And shared our big day. Yes, I'm talking to you. Every bit of me loves every bit of you. Your sacrifice and hard work to be there celebrating with us, will never be forgotten.

Thank you for loving me throughout the years.
For who I really am.
Thanks for listening when my heart feels like sharing.
And not judging me.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

And most of all, thanks D. For being my better half. For forgiving me when I fall short. And appreciating when I try. Thanks for loving me no matter the season. For being my safe place. And letting me be yours.


Here's to an eternity together,

R.