Scattered Thunderstorms.

I'm having one of those mornings. 

The ones where you don't wanna get out of bed. Your eyelids feel like they weigh 100 pounds. Your body aches. Every part of you is screaming for sleep. 

And I don't think it is just me. I drug myself out of bed, and like a zombie, subconsciously stumbled to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face and pulled my hair into a l o o s e, unbrushed ponytail. I wasn't even hungry. Which is weird because I have gone without food for a good... 11 hours. I should be starved by now. But I'm not. 

I tried to be pleasant.

"Mom?"

"what."

Ooh..she's having one of those mornings too.

"Did you know that Michael Jackson died yesterday?"

"Yeah I heard that. That's crazy."

I knew she was trying to force a smile while she spoke and soak happiness in every word.

But then it escaped.

"What from a drug overdose or something. Psh."

"No a heart attack actually..."

"Really? He's too young for a heart attack."

"Yeah...he was 50..."

"Really...hmm.."

Our trying to be pleasant conversation had ended. 

It is just one of those mornings. 

We weren't angry, or unkind. It is just a gloomy morning.

Even Abby wasn't barking. 

But there is still hope. Sunshine does the soul good, and it is June 26th. Which means the sun will be hot, and bright. And who can be gloomy when the sun is out?

Well. Unfortunately. My gloomy morning just turned into a gloomy day.

I just looked up the weather. And..

This is what it told me.

Now 56F/75F

Scattered Thunderstorms

Humidity: 55

Wind: from the WSW at 9 mph

Sunrise: 05:58:00 am/Sunset: 09:02:00 pm

Which means I have approximately 11 hours left until the hiding sun sets. 

Afternoon movie anyone? Or better yet. Puddle jumping?

Please RSVP if you are interested. 

Until then, I will be sitting, watching, waiting for my scattered thunderstorms. 

Because if its anything even close to this...

...My day may not be so gloomy after all.

The day.

There was something about those gigantic, c r i s p y blue robes and flat, boxy caps that drew me. I got mine out of the box the day I took them home. I had waited so long to feel the starched fabric stiff beneath my fingers and to place that awkward fitting cap on my head. 17 years. My moment was here.

Okay so maybe the outfit wasn't exactly flattering...but it didn't matter. Because it meant more than could ever be shown on a department store model. 

It meant accomplishment. It meant possibilities. It meant change. It meant past, yet it meant present, but most importantly- it meant future. 

So many big words, big things. I wasn't used to this. To these big decisions, big moments. Everything was all of a sudden big. And with big...comes important. I was no longer sitting back and letting somebody else do it for me. Someone else deal with the stress, the fear, even pain at times. This time it was all me.

But then again, I wasn't letting anyone else feel the joy, the excitement, the wonder, the satisfaction. 

And that, all of that, has once again helped me in becoming who I am. Who I can be. Who I will become.

I was almost ready. Almost ready for the big day. The word I had anticipated yet dreaded even thinking about for years.

  Graduation. 

It was almost here. My announcements were mailed. My gown was ironed. My tassel neatly dangling from my cap. I had it all. Well almost. I was still missing one thing. 

My family.

My siblings are spread across the globe. At least it seems like it to me. Especially at times like this. I mean I know it was nothing new, I had been to 5 graduations. And that's only counting highschool graduations. I knew how it was done. Yet I couldn't help but wish my family could be there to share it with me. To be the ones sitting in the stands as I walked down that l o n g carpet to my seat like I watched them do so many times before. But life is crazy. And demanding. Work, school, raising a family- its near impossible to leave. And so of course I understood.

After all, I had my mom, who has molded me into someone I could never have become on my own, and taught me lifelong lessons I will never forget. And of course my dad, who has spent countless hours working to support me and who has been an example I can only hope to shadow someday.  

And that was okay with me. They had been by my side since the day I was born, and they wouldn't be missing this.

But it gets better.

Here's the good part.

Wednesday, June 3rd, 2009.

I was pulling into my driveway after a long night of reminiscing, reuniting, and goodbyes to some. It was late, I was tired. Tired enough not to notice the blue van parked one car over. I trudged inside and tripped on a pair of small shoes. Too small to be mine. Too small to be my mom's, and definitely too small to be my dad's. They were a child's shoes. They had to be my nephew's.

Noah. 

I threw open the mudroom door and raced into the kitchen. No one. Spotless as my mom always leaves it. I sprinted up the stairs and down the hall, confusion eating at my mind. I glided through the doorway of my room and came to an abrupt s t o p. My eyes filled with tears. There on my bed sat the one thing I needed to be completely ready. My family. I will never forget that moment. I realized just how much they cared. 

I couldn't believe it. 10 hours, 2 kids...My sister... + 4 hours, 1 rowdy 3 year old...My sister... + another hour, nursing baby..My sister. I don't know how they did it, but it meant the world to me. 

As I stared at them in wonder my sister said, 

"Do you really think we would miss this rach? Yeah right."

And that statement said it all. Of course they wouldn't miss it. Because families stick together. Even those who couldn't make the drive, still rememebered. Still cared. Still called me just to talk. And together, as a family, they made me ready. 

Ready for the end of my world as I knew it. Ready to begin not just a new chapter in my life, but a whole new book. Ready to become me.

  

 

So to my family, I say thank you. Thank you for once again amazing me in ways I could never imagine possible. I can now say..

I am ready.

Dear Flea,

Why do you hide yourself deep
inside my blankets, destroying my peace?
You send chills all over my body,
I cringe at the thought of you,
itch for no reason at all.
I have the pleasure of sleeping on
a hard, scratchy towel-
no covers to cozy in,
no warmth to comfort me.
Instead I sit here, lamp on, eyes
wide open, awaiting your ghostly arrival.
Perros howling songs of pain,
discomfort at your presence,
another reason I cannot find rest.
No, this is not a sweet seranade
to give you the attention you seek.
Not a soul out there longs for your presence,
waits for your arrival.
They cry at the thought of you,
shun themselves from your presence.
And so I lye in the darkness.
Loneliness only my fondest dream.

My name.

Everybody has a name. What’s in that name. Behind that name. Around that name. What does it mean to you- or does it mean anything at all. Mine does. It is soft, it is warm. It is the sun slightly peeking over the mountain tops- warming the dark sky. It is the strong wind before a storm. A warning.

Powerful Leader. That is what my name means. Does it fit me. Sometimes. But it fits her. She wore it well. My great grandma. Anna Bengsten-Svard Henriksen. A Leo, like me. That is the bond we share. I did not know her. But she, being a Leo, was as faithful and loving as the stars. Always there, smiling down on you, filling your body with wonder. Yes, she was like the stars.

I’ve never been to Denmark. Or Sweden for that matter. But they are both in my blood. Yes, Enoch Oscar Johannes Henriksen runs through my blood like a raging river dashing through a meadow. He was honest, he was brave. Am I honest, am I brave. Sometimes. But he was.

When people meet me, they c h o p my name like a pile of onions. It sounds harsh. It sounds cold. They even write it with more letters then there really are. As if it’s not enough on its own. Sometimes they limit it- limit me. Henny. That is what they say. I don’t like limits.

At school no one can really know my name when my name is called on the role. It is easy to pronounce. The first part at least, then it is not so easy. Not so ordinary. Then it becomes unique. But even then, I am the only one that can know it. Know the power, trust, sincerity of my great grandparents. I am the last leaf to fall on the oak tree. I know each twist in the tree trunk. I can feel the greatness of the tree in a way none of the other leaves can. I know the heritage behind my name.

Beautiful in form and countenance. Ancient Hebrew. Rachel. A powerful leader. Brave and daring. Henriksen. Yes, I am the only one who can really know Rachel Henriksen.