Left Alone

Laying in bed last night listening to the dishwasher run, I remembered the first time my mother left me alone.

I was eight years old. We were living in our third, and my favorite, house. My best friend was visiting and we were deeply entrenched in imaginative play. My mother needed to go to the farm down the street for vegetables. Ali and I asked to stay home. My mom wasn't sure about that. We promised everything would be fine and we would stay in the house. After much prodding, my mom relented. After all, she would only be gone 10 minutes or so. "The dryer is running so you may here some noises come from the basement. I'll be back in just a few minutes."

It wasn't long after she left that we heard noises. After a few more minutes we convinced ourselves that it didn't sound like the dryer. We decided someone must be in the basement or trying to get in the house.

Ali and I ran up to the third floor bathroom and hid in the tub. That is exactly where my mother found us whispering to each other when she returned mere minutes later. "I guess we need to wait a little longer until I leave you alone again." she laughed. "No, no, Mom. We're fine like we promised." I insisted.

I can't remember the next time she left me alone with no adult present in the house. Truthfully, I was probably 16.

Lying in bed in the dark I felt alone, floating, suspended in time, and 8 years old all over again.

Too Sweet?

I am a simple girl (in some ways). When it comes to aesthetics, I like things clean and clear. I guess you could say I am a minimalist. That is why I have always had the Minima Dark blogger template. Minima Dark is easy to read, no frills, and, according to my digital photography professor, photos usually show up better on a black background. Practical and Simple. Clean and Clear.

I wasn't always this way, though. When I was a little girl I saved everything (even "special" gum wrappers), doodled on everything, hung all kinds of busyness all over my room. I even decorated my backpack and a pair of crutches that I kept in my closet (don't ask). When I saw this template from Izzy Grace Blog Backgrounds, that little girl took over. She told me, "Oh, you have to have that! Even just for a little bit. Just through Valentine's Day... Pretty please? It's fun and cheery and you need that in the middle of winter, just a little bit of color... and it makes you smile..." And she just kept talking and talking to me until she really started making sense.

So, I'm trying it. That little girl, she is only one opinion. I'd be interested in what you all think since you are the ones who look at this and who I would like to keep happy so you keep visiting. Please leave your thoughts in the comment section, even if it is just a "Yes, keep it." or "No, my eyes, my eyes; go back to the original immediately; do not pass go, do not collect $200."

Thanks in advance for the input!

Sunday Scribblings #142 - Late

"Sunday Scribblings was set up to provide inspiration and motivation for anyone who enjoys writing and would like a weekly challenge." This weeks prompt is "Late".

"Late" was not allowed when I was growing up. My mother always had us up and ready to go with plenty of time to spare before we had to get to where we were going. Often we were 15 minutes early, never less than 10 minutes early. I understand early. I know how to wait patiently. I know how to occupy myself when I am waiting. Even now I rarely go anywhere without a book to read and never go anywhere with a notebook & pen for writing. My mother taught me that being early or, at the very least, on time, shows respect for the person(s) you are meeting and demonstrates your reliability and sense of responsibility. Oh, and if something unforeseen happens you call, explain, and let those waiting for you know you are getting there as fast as you can. These "unforeseen circumstances" should happen very rarely because you should be giving yourself more than enough time (i.e. be accounting for unforeseen circumstances) to get your destination on time at the very least. "Late" was not allowed.

Fast forward to now. I am married to someone who grew up much differently. He is much more "loose" about time. He assumes wherever he is going people will forgive him for being 10, 15, even 30 (perhaps more) minutes late. He runs on the belief that everyone will understand. He does not view being late as even a small indiscretion. We have had to come to an understanding about time. If we are going to see my family or going to and event we have been invited to due to my activities, we leave when I want to leave. When we go to see his family or go to an event we were invited to due to his activities, we leave when he wants to leave. It works most of the time, but can sometimes get a bit complicated if we are going to visit joint-friends. Our joint-friends know that if I am coming alone I will be on time, but if my husband and I are coming together they can expect tardiness of some sort.

While I appreciate the lessons my mother taught me, I also appreciate having the husband I do. Being with my husband has helped me to loosen up a little bit about time. Instead of leaving a 30 or forty-five minute "cushion" of time when I go some where, I tend to leave a 15 minute cushion (unless we are going somewhere new). I have learned to be more in the moment which helps me enjoy and appreciate every minute more. I believe I am beginning to find a healthy balance when it comes to time.

I leave you with an interesting tidbit: While I can become crazy over being late to every day appointments, I am very relaxed about how long it takes to accomplish certain goals and milestones along my life path. Case in point: I am twenty-seven and still working toward my bachelor's degree. What does this say about me?

Go Vote!!!!

High Flying Flag - December 2007 - Hollywood, Florida

Today I woke up at 6:30 giddy with excitement. "IT'S ELECTION DAY!" I excitedly exclaimed to my husband as I threw back the covers, threw off my clothes, and hopped into the shower. His hearty laugh at my childlike excitement echoed through the house, but he stayed put on the couch watching the DVR'd Racheal Maddow Show from last night and savoring his steamy oatmeal. "It is not a day like any other day!" I fought to keep from shouting.

We went through our morning motions of showering and dressing. He laughed that hearty laugh again as he watched me try on three different tailored jackets over my black long-sleeved cotton t-shirt and dark wash skinny jeans before settling on the neutral velvety olive green two-button. "After two long years the big day is finally here! Aren't you excited, Hunny?" I asked eagerly. "I love you <3" he replied as he kissed my head on his way out the bedroom door.

At 6:55, all bundled up, we crossed the street to the middle school, our polling place. "Chilly, but what a beautiful day for voting." I thought to myself. Once inside we were faced with a looping line. "Good to know people are coming out to vote." Mr. B&B and I commented. There were people with children and people with dogs, brown people and black people and yellow people and white people, young people and old people and somewhere in between people, there were poll workers walking up and down the line in case people wanted to be sure they were registered and to help elderly voters or others with physical ailments go straight to the front of the line. It was civilized. It was community. It was democracy at work.

After 30 minutes of waiting in line, we had our ballots in hand. 2 minutes later 2 booths opened up. 5 minutes later our ballots were filled out. 5 minutes later our addresses were checked and our ballots were cast. Once safely out of the gymnasium and into the hallway I clapped my hands with glee, "We voted! Yippee!" I said, embracing my husband and giving him a peck on the cheek. "Awfully excited about voting, eh?" the woman manning the bake sale table said with a smile. "Yes. I can't possibly be the only one..." I replied. "Is it your first time?" she asked. "No. I am 27." I informed her. "But you look so young..." "We'll take the Banana Bread." my husband with the tummy full of oatmeal decided. Our civic duty (both voting and buying banana bread to benefit the PTA) done, we crossed the street back home.

"We've earned our right to complain." Mr. B&B said. "We've done our civic duty. Our votes count. We've exercised our right. Our democracy is intact." I replied. Holding hands, leaves crunching under our feet, smiles on our faces, we slowly made our way home. Upon arrival, I called my parents and Mr. B&B called his. "We voted!" we proudly spoke into each of our phones respectively.

Today, no matter who you choose to vote for, please go to the polls and exercise your right to vote.

Bring your spouse, your children, your pets. Especially, bring your children if you can. I remember my parents bringing me to the polls when I was little and letting me fill out the circles on the ballot to their specifications and I still go to the polls, but now I get to fill out the ballot to my specifications.

Today, no matter who you choose to vote for, please go to the polls and exercise your right to vote.

The people are friendly. You might even reconnect with neighbors you haven't seen in awhile or make friends with neighbors you never would have met otherwise.

Today, no matter who you choose to vote for, please go to the polls and exercise your right to vote.

The lines move quickly and are worth waiting in if only for that exuberant, sweet, proud feeling that comes after you have cast your ballot.

Today, no matter who you choose to vote for, please go to the polls and exercise your right to vote.

Do your civic duty. Make your vote count. Exercise your right. Keep our democracy in intact.

Happy Election Day!