12:19

She's the first heart I have known and remembered for its entirety.

The morning of December 19th, when I was 13 years old is not one I will ever forget. The call, the rush, the excitement. We sped to the delivery room prior to school, unnerved I would be late regardless of my flawless school attendance. That didn't matter in the least on this particular day. The sky was still awakening, the hallways were still cool, and most of the patients were still in slumber. The morning was full of somber. Waiting to enter the room I remember faint beeps, whispers and shadowed nurses waltzing from room to room carrying out their daunting tasks; all second view from what I was completely fixated on...meeting her. The second I laid eyes upon her the yellow haze of the room seemed out of focus. Beating heart, shallow breaths, full of life. Swaddled in a blanket she was placed near the window, as if she was born to be bigger and more full of life than her surroundings. Every day since, she has proven that hypothesis correct.

The years to follow were full of summers spent waking at the crack of dawn, biking across the dimly lit town with chilling wind blowing through whatever I threw on that morning. Anxious to meet a day filled with her presence. From the apartment we departed for daily adventure. Toys, the pool, pictures, and parks. Walks, baseball games, library visits and naps. Being silly and enjoying our summers together.

The winters consisted of shared weekends with us when mom and dad were busy. She joined us for church, and entertained us all during family gatherings; proving her knowledge by rattling off the songs from the most recent concerts and shows.

One day, unannounced, she started to grow up. The way she held her composure as the softball came her way and she hit a home run on the team her daddy coached. The way she explained her dance routines and was eager to show any eyes willing to watch. She gained love for one direction and talked with a heart full of love to everyone who would listen. The incredible ability she gained to love to ice skate and be extraordinary at it.

Then college hit me smack in the face. No more weekly encounters. I could never again just drive across town to see her whenever I felt the need, or baby sit when her mom wanted. My heart ached for missing not just family, but a big chunk of the person I had spent so much time with. Now, encounters consist of Christmas, breaks, reunions, random weekends and weeks before I would set out for camp.

The sequence of short events that happen when I get to see her in town after being away awhile will be forever remembered for the rest of my life. The surprised look, the gasp, my name being squealed, the run with arms outspread, and the embrace we share. Nearly nothing compares to this type of joy. Each day together, while home during break, we squeeze in time to be together; to jump on the trampoline, take some time at the beach, watching hockey, spending time being goofy in the camper during the reunion, ice skating together, and watching her develop her skills in whatever passion she is currently interested in.

Most of my best memories involve her. She has been the single biggest thing to happen to me in the years that I can fully remember. I love her with a full heart.

Daily she inspires me. Her energy, her whit, her confidence. She's remarkably smart, with a fixation on her passions. She strives for individuality and cares deeply. She is growing into a wonderful young woman with an giant attitude to boot. I am most proud of who she is. I'd like to say she's turning into me, but then I remember that she is one of the biggest parts of who I am.

Yellow

I used to think it was my favorite because my most favorite things were created from it.

Banana popsicles.

Mac and cheese.

Lemonade.

Gram's house.

My sorority colors.

Pineapple prints.

Flowers.

Then I noticed something.

It wasn't what was made from its hues, but what I myself strive to be.

This discovery didn't come easy or immediate.

At first, I hated it.

The glow of the morning will forever promise to be the most unavoidable intrusion of life. For a long time, I despised its presence. I used to hold a true hatred the daily abduction of darkness, forced to leave the presence of pillows and quilts. Never fully experiencing true definitions of the steady stream of morning light. To me, it was as simple as that. Light.

Then the day came that I actually truly noticed it. The morning light was yellow. Soft.  At first, through the small slit of opened morning eyes begging to remain closed. Then my view changed. I learned to open my eyes slowly to a new, promising, day. Blessed to be woken up yet again, able to grow and experience another beautiful day. The light, pouring in through opaque curtains, screaming its presence, is unavoidable. It doesn't ask for permission to enlighten others, it just does. It finds the deepest corners and swallows the darkness. It urges silently for you to experience its full potential. The full potential of the day.

I've had the ability to awaken in numerous places called home, and experience the soft glow of morning in more places than one. In some places it pulses through the curtains, whispering in a soft glow. In others, it streams through the screen in lines accompanied by the birds. And still in others, it pours directly in through windows near the ceiling as a waterfall does.  Completely beautiful, never stopping.

How lucky we would be to possess the talents the morning hours. To have the ability to shine without stopping. To let everyone of the face of the earth know that they are alive, hearts beating with purpose, to set out to accomplish dreams …daily.

Then I was enlightened.

We can. Secondly, we must. We must strive to be the morning glow. We have the ability daily to make others feel full of purpose. To set out with determination, and live a life of inspiration. Never stopping to ask permission. To let others know they are appreciated. And most importantly, to let them know they are loved; and daily we will FORCE them to get up, uncover their dreams and strive to do their best just as the sun does for us. We must push into their lives, as the morning light pushes into ours. To search out darkness, and to fill it with light.  Never changing, completely reliable, and always unavoidable.

We must strive to be yellow. 

the girl with purple shades

I think it was summer of '96. Although I guess it could have been any of the summers 5 years before or 5 years after. The summers that forever changed who I was.

The morning hours were excruciating. Mom would cake on a layer of mystery before she left for the day. Stampeding from bathroom, to bedroom, kitchen, and repeat. The wonder of what her day at work entailed was never near the wonder and anticipation of what mine would bring as soon as my beloved sitter arrived.

The kerchief pattern on the red sheet blew loose in the early hours as it hung in our bay window. The fragments of shadows it created and the soft red light it let in pushed through and danced on the wall, sharing its joy for the impending day. I waited for the shine of sun reflecting off of purple sunglasses, meaning that she was only 12 sidewalk squares away from a full day of fun.

I remember trips across town to the beach in the bike trailer. Running through the sand, too hot for my feet and jet ski rides. On the luckiest of days, I remember treats from the brown snack shack.

I remember ice cream days and messes running down my face.

I remember walks and adventures, lemonade stands, days in the yard, standing in sidewalk chalk stained clothes admiring a masterpiece in the driveway, and bubbles that filled the air as we danced in the sun on the grass.

I remember the lives my barbie dolls lived and being mommies to baby dolls. Playing endless board games from the closet, and stuffed animals that tagged along.

I remember rainy days, when unwanted water trickled through our unfinished roof and the pots and pans she placed delicately around the living room to save the floor as much as possible.

I remember packed sandwiches in Ziplock bags, and mac and cheese with hot dogs on the old dinning room table.

I remember Noah's ark toys during bath time, the tent on my bed, and the large purple container, pushed under the bed, filled to the brim with magnificent tubs containing imagination dough (now, as an adult, referred to as play dough).

I remember the pool and parks.

I remember trips to the 1st street back yard. Climbing the trees, eating berries, and playing with bubbles big enough, I thought they would pick me up and carry me away. I remember learning cartwheels in the front lawn and the green and pink soccer ball. I remember snuggles in the hammock and the smell of the flowers.

I remember dressing up in dance clothes found in the bottom drawer in the bathroom, opening the double knobs with two hands.

And when winter decided to come, with the doom of a fulfilled but ending summer, I remember the sidelines of prom, gingerbread houses, visiting for Halloween, and Christmas in the 1st street house.

I remember love.

Then it came, graduation. I wasn't completely aware of what this meant. To me, it was a day to dress up and once again visit the house where my favorite person lived. I didn't know that the explanation would soon come, that with her away, it was going to be a little different.

To her, I'm sure it felt a little bit more like work. But to me, it will forever have felt like one of the most perfect dreams. A never ending, complete string of joy.

There are a million memories she helped create for me. But the best thing I can ever remember is her complete love for me. I was the one she shared numerous amounts of love with. I was the luckiest person on the face of the earth. I was blessed with not only two loving parents, but a third person, who would do anything for me and loved me unconditionally.

She taught me more than just how to tie my shoes. She taught me things some people never grasp the whole concept of: patience, understanding, joy, grace and true love.

I'll never really be able to understand why I was able to be so blessed to spend my summers under the tender care of one of the most wonderful people on this side of heaven. God gave me a babysitter, childhood best friend, and a forever role model in the best form.

She forever changed who I am, in the best way possible. She was and continues to be truly inspiring, and a huge part of who I aspire to be.

Soon, her love will forever be promised to the luckiest man. For all the love she lent me, I am forever thankful.

Congrats on the engagement Megan, and a life filled with love you will share.

From Within

There once was a girl who helped me survive a summer. Accomplishing such task was no small adventure. She set sail with gusts large enough to blow one away.
She crept quietly into my soul and hid inside my heart, waiting silently until I discovered her presence.
From within, she wordlessly etched her love. She celebrated my joys and was crushed with every hardship. She understood my passions and knew my fears. Restlessly she helped me gain courage and taught me to live free.
As the endless days grew short I began to understand the complete takeover she unleashed from sitting inside my heart.
Our last day forced us on separate sides of an uncrossable boarder.
But while miles apart, still she sits, in her hiding spot inside my heart. She set up camp, putting up stilts and preparing for anything. Her, unwilling to be retracted or removed. Me, happy to let her take up space within.

And from where she sat, she understood that I broke my own heart trying to love him, And from her little spot, she was able to pull in the radioactive shards upon herself. Sewing them back together and holding them in place. One, by one. Whispering to every piece: "I love you, and I will never leave, no matter the weight of separation or pain of the distance. Every day, here I will sit. Holding you together, until again you are whole, complete enough to simply just let me sit inside and enjoy my presence."

And it wasn't until then that I realized, it was never her plan to sit and hide. She placed herself within to help mold my heart to what it needs to be. Sitting endlessly, taking upon herself the possibility of a lifetime of pain, due to the shards of my inward breaking heart. Making sure she was there, simply to hold up and patch the pieces that may become undone from time to time. Spending her hours on rough days, putting together the puzzle when this beating heart cracks . And on quiet days to marvel on why she stays and rejoice together in the beauty of life.

And here I sit. Trying to understand when it could have happened. It did so without me knowing. But now, when one goes looking for me, they can find me hiding within her heart. Waiting for the damage. Waiting for the bruises and scrapes formed by HER shards. But, simultaneously, anticipating the day when I could in return pay her back by holding together her radioactive pieces. Not wanting it to happen. But completely prepared and armed for battle. Siting in peace, rejoicing in all the beauty life brings her.

And, now knowing. This is the definition of a best friend. So if you're out searching for one, look for a person with a vacant space, and silently, crawl inside. Prepare for battle. Enjoying the view while you wait. Sharing in all the beauty. And when the time arises, use all your soul to hold together the toxic pieces.
Because, after all, that's what she does for me.
And that's why she's my best friend.