Stop and smell the rainbows

"Come outside," he says.

Really? Now? In the middle of all this? What is it that you need that is so urgent it can't wait until I'm off the phone, until I'm done cleaning up other people's messes.

What do you want now when I'm busy, when everything is messed up and I'm trying to deal with it?

"Come with me," he says.

I follow him outside, impatiently barking at him. "What do you need?"

"Look," he says. And points up at the sky.

The voice in my ear fades away, as everything slows down. I stare up at the most magnificent rainbow coming out of the clouds.

"It was much bigger before," he says.

I smile. I pause, and take a breath before everything speeds up again.

There is always time for beauty.

Ocean Breath

The path leads straight into the water
it's as clear as day
the only way to go is down,
follow the white broken lines
follow the cars
just follow,
but you're happy to,
the sun and wind in your hair
the ocean spread out before you
as the road you take goes straight into its depths,
it seems
you speed up,
awaiting
anticipating
the salty air permeating
your being
you want to be breathe water
you want to be the water
fluid,
in motion,
overwhelmingly beautiful
breathtakingly wonderous
you sense no danger
as the wide open road
propels you foward
and the ocean welcomes you
with open arms
but at the last second
it curves,
you turn the wheel
follow the white broken lines
around the bend
the foliage
obscuring the water
the beauty you see no more
you mourn its loss
but you know it wasn't meant to be.

Muscle Memory

I thought I had forgotten how to run, but I guess my muscles remember. Vaguely, but they do understand how it works.

Oh how they ache, I can barely sit or stand without feeling the burn. There's a great path by the canal near where I live, it's 2.5 miles around.

I got halfway around and could barely breath but there is really no stopping when you have to get back to the other side of the canal. Except there is a bridge in the middle but I decided not to cheat.

As I was walking the last leg, a woman passed me on the trail, jogging at a slow pace. My competitive side kicked in, so I jogged past here and then switched back to walking. So she got past me.

Then I did it again a few times, leapfrogging her just to psych her out. It got her to move faster, but then I gave up.

You win. Game over, I can't breath.

But then I got home and jumped into the pool, so it was all worth it.

We hold each other

A beating heart. That is what we were each given.

A heart keeps us alive, until it stops beating.

A heart causes you to feel.

To feel pain, to feel joy.

To feel fear. Loneliness. Uncertainty.

We hold each other because that is all we can do, the more we hear, the more pain we feel as each video comes scrolling through news feeds and we want to block it out, stick fingers in our ears and pretend it is not happening, but it is. It is and you can't stop it, you can't stop the pain.

You can't stop the violence, as you hold yourself, arms crossed over your body, rocking with the tears, wishing it would stop.

*People judged us they couldn't see the connection
When I look at you, it's like I'm looking back at my reflection
I don't see nothing different, our pigments they coincide
We hold each other so tight they couldn't break us if they tried

What causes one person to feel the pain of another across the globe, cry with families of Jews killed in our land, soldiers ripe in years, babies even, stabbed to death for protecting what is theirs.

It makes no sense, but all we can do is keep holding on and pray for the redemption.

*Lyrics from "Hold Each Other", a song by A Great Big World

I want to get better

When I get a cold, I get it bad. Really bad. Wake up with aches and shakes everywhere can't move no interest in anything bad. Boxes of tissues and bottles of cold medicine bad. Wondering if I'll ever get my sense of smell back and how many people I am annoying with my nose blowing bad.

I finally went to the doctor after the pain in my sinuses became too much. I was convinced that I had a sinus infection, having gotten them all the time when I was little. I remember once when I was about 5 years old, I was so sick I couldn't even put on my socks, I was sitting on the bed in a fog and my mother had to do it for me. Pain in my sinuses clogs my whole head, the pressure makes it feel like my eyes will pop out, like I'm underwater in a pool filled with chlorine, like something is compressing my face.

So I marched in there ready to tell the doctor that I already diagnosed myself and please write me a prescription for antibiotics, thank you very much.

But after a few questions she announced that I do not present with a sinus infection, I simply don't have the right symptoms. Damn, I knew I should have answered yes to 'Do you have a fever, sore throat?'. Just give me the drugs and let me be on my merry way!

She did give me drugs. She prescribed steroids as an antihistamine to dry up my sinuses and allergy medicine to prevent it from building up again. She said in a week I should be good as new.

She also informed me that what I have is common, and some people live with it for months before going to a doctor. This? I thought. Why, why would anyone want to live with such pain, such discomfort?

But we do it every day, we have an ache in the back, foot, an itch on the arm, stomach, we feel minor pain and we chalk it up to lifting boxes, or nothing, or something that can't be explained. We have twitching muscles and stiff joints and we shrug and say eh, that's life, what can you do.

Well, you can do something, if you want to get help, if you want to get better. I have found that it is seemingly much easier to do nothing then to attempt to resolve your situation, because as a pessimist I anticipate failure as inevitable. And why bother trying when you will fail anyway.

BUT what if you could make a change and help yourself, make your situation better? Shouldn't you at least try?

I could have lived without my sense of smell, or with a box of tissues as company. I've done it most of my life. My family used to make fun of me for blowing my nose so loud. But now when I wake up in the morning with barely any tissues on the floor beside my bed, and a clear nose that I can breath from, I am grateful to have gotten the help I needed to get better.

It's not always easy to change your situation, but imagine how good it will feel if you try, and instead of failing, think about this- what if you succeed?

After darkness comes...lightning?

I'm sitting in my car at midnight and I know all the stories of people being shot or jumped outside late at night, and despite the warnings in my head I can't go inside. I lock my doors, turn off the ignition and just sit there, listening to "Roses" by The Chainsmokers over and over again while I watch the most breathtaking lightning show taking place in the sky, and I can't go inside, if I could I would sleep out here, sleep on a cloud so I could be closer to the light, I would stay here forever to watch this sight that takes my breath away and makes my heart pound in awe of what the Creator has done.

I can't go inside, because I lied, I lied when I said that everything is great, I lie because you probably couldn't handle the truth and I probably can't handle the truth. The truth is, that you can change your job, your location, your situation, your friends, you can change all the facts about your life but you cannot change yourself, and as I already knew, wherever you go, there you are. It sounds depressing, right? What if you are so sick of yourself, what if you are so boring that a guy can't stand to talk to you for more than an hour and says "Let me know if you want to do this again sometime" which you know is code for "You are so boring and that was a waste of my time" so clearly you bore people to death, and the bottom line is that you will die alone.

Your mom says that isn't true and that you have a lot going for you, but what does she know, she's been married to the same guy for 35 years and she claims she only married him because he was the only Jewish guy she knew and she knew she was supposed to marry a Jew.

What do you want to know? What do you want me to tell you? I could tell you every single crappy detail of my new life, but what would be the point? You can't help me, and who the hell reads this crap anyway?

I had to say that.

I'm sorry. (Not really, but maybe that's what you need to hear. If you are reading this.)

My first instinct was to run to an 'ex' and beg for validation, please, tell me what you ever saw in me, tell me that I'm interesting, and funny, and smart and worth being around, tell me that I'm likeable, that I'm lovable, that I'm not boring as hell or broken, that I'm not gonna die alone. But what would that do? Best case, he'd probably say something lame and generic to try to make me feel better, worst case he'd be a jackass and say something mean. Or ignore me altogether. Then I would be left to peel my shame off the ground, the last little shred of dignity that I may have had left.

No, I'd rather stay up alone and wallow.

And sit outside watching the lightning, waiting for some creepy killer to knock on my window. Or do they even knock?

In an effort to try to cheer me up:

Thank you and goodnight.

My Bubby, with love

I'm sick. I hate when I have a cold, my body feels weak and tired and all I want to do is go to bed.

But my body is betraying me, because so many things are going right in my life. Thank G-d.

I have a new job, new car, new apartment, new city/state. I picked up and moved and started a whole new life all on my own, and with G-d's help everything is working out.

I woke up this morning to the most gorgeous view outside the window of my grandparents' condo. I love spending time with them, although when I was younger I did not appreciate it.

They are old, and they are wise. And they take care of their family. I felt that especially today.

My grandfather helped me with my new car, walked me through the whole process and was with me every step of the way. He was patient with me. He explained everything.

The more time I spend with them, the more I regret having brushed them off when I was younger. I thought they were boring. I thought their habits of saving everything, from plastic cutlery to peanut tins was funny. I thought they were old and slow.

It took time and patience for me to realize what a treasure I have, and how much I should appreciate them while I still can.

My father grew up in a house with 4 boys. If they did have any emotions, surely they never showed it. The only one who apparently 'lived freely' was Uncle Neal. He was the fun one, the adventurous one, the one full of life and laughter. He wrapped himself around a tree driving drunk when he was 25.

Growing up, I learned that tears meant you were weak.

I learned that saying "I love you" makes you vulnerable.

I learned that opening a door to trust brings pain.

I learned to stuff my feelings deep inside, to bite or be bitten, to put up a wall to keep others out.

A lot has changed over the years. We aren't the people we once were. We agreed to bury the past, make peace with it so we could move on. Things are different now.

I never saw my grandmother as a very motherly being. She was simply my grandmother. She sent me cards on my birthday. She came to every graduation. She called to say hello and see how I was doing.

I never felt anything. I didn't know how to feel, at least not to them.

I saw her in the kitchen today, wearing an apron, preparing breakfast. She left me a glass of orange juice in the fridge. She made me a bowl of oatmeal.

I noticed a tube of lipstick on the counter. Its girlishness seemed out of place in this kitchen.

Then I looked around. At the heart-shaped card from a student of hers, where she volunteers to tutor. At the pictures of all of us, her grandkids and great-grandkids. At her knickknacks, her 'Edith Bunker' cookbook, at the charm and personality of her kitchen.

I looked at all the patchwork quilts she made over the years, and all the lives she's touched. Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough, that she could have done better in grandchildren. I wonder if she wishes I had gone to Harvard or Yale, instead of City College. I wonder if she is embarrassed to introduce me to her friends, because I am religious.

She blows me a kiss as I say goodbye.

It's hard to say "I love you" but I think she knows.

New York

My feet are freezing in my tights and boots, and my body is all confused. I should be in Florida right now, but here I am, in New York, the greatest city in the world.

I miss it, I really do. I miss the buses, the noise, the pollution, I miss the crowds, the NYPD Blue, I miss the comfortable feeling, like a favorite old sweater, that this place gets me, that it is me, and will always be a part of me.

I'm excited to tell people that I moved to Florida, and I'm happy there. I'm in New York for a visit, to see my friends and be here for Yom Tov. But then I'm going back, back to Florida where I live now.

Yes I live in Florida now. I have a job and  a car and an apartment with a pool. Do I sound all grown up? Cuz that's how I feel.

I will always be New York, you can't take that away from me. But right now I can't wait to go back to the Land of Sun.