you look good.

07 May 2013 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in Clothes, Good, Happiness

Black marker. Dry erase. The mirror’s long, stuck on the wall between door and sink. Sit on the bed, the mirror can’t see you, but you can see it. You see those three words. Italicized print, it would be called. Thick letters traced over and again, emphasizing the message, driving it deep.

you look good.

Read the mirror, she says. You look towards the reflective silver, even though you know what’s already there. It can’t possibly be true, though. Can it? You don’t feel like you look good. You didn’t look good this morning, did you? Standing in front of that mirror, you toss your hair behind you with a careless flick of your hand. It bounces. Flops. Frizzes. That doesn’t look good.

You doubt the mirror. Doubt those words.

You don’t like what you see. Slip jeans off, slide on a skirt. Rummage under a pile on the bed, pull out a scarf. Kick off your sandals, dig in the closet for your flats. Pin hair back. Pull it down again. Curler. Straightener. Hair spray. Pony tail. You change.

The mirror doesn’t change.

It’s there when you march around the room, feeling confident. Jeans fit right, top looks nice, cardigan matches. Mirror saw that. Mirror saw when you squinted hard, too. Unhappy. Dissatisfied. Toothpaste, bed head, eyes brows raised, incredulous. Saw that. The pucker lips face you make when you walk out the door. The way you shrug your shoulders quick when you walk past. Tilt head right, tilt head left. Mirror sees it all.

you look good.

The message hasn’t changed.

You might disagree, but only one can be right. You or the mirror. I’m inclined to agree with the mirror. Have you heard it said that you are your hardest critic? It’s true. You’re the one who sees the way the shirt bunches. The way the eyeliner rubs. The way the shoes fit, the hair falls, the pants sag. You see that. I don’t. We don’t. Your eye is tuned to see and to condemn. To pick and fault. To critique yourself.

I don’t see those things. They don’t, either. We’re too busy noticing everything wrong with ourselves.

The mirror sees, though. Sees, watches, and doesn’t change. The pile of discarded clothes on your bed grows bigger. The time to go to class clicks nearer. Your frustration builds higher, but the mirror doesn’t change at all.

you look good.

You and I, we’re really the same in this. Don’t you think I know what self-conscious is? Don’t you think I throw clothes across the room, kick them under the desk? Don’t you think I change six times some days, whining to myself all the while? I’m no better, no different.

The mirror, though? The mirror knows the truth. you look good. Inside, your unique heart, passionate about what He’s made you to love, growing, fighting a little more every day to be more you; more you in Him. Outside, your hair, your smile, your eyes, your style. you look good.

You really do.

~Natalia

Coming Back

02 May 2013 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in Family, Friends, Happiness, Moody Bible Institute, Summer

It’s hot outside. Classes haven’t started yet but they will soon; another day, maybe two. It’s the middle of August, 2012, and students are slowly trickling back to this downtown campus. I’ve been here since Tuesday, so has The Roommate.

There are other girls here too; carting suitcases and boxes upstairs from waiting minivans, dragging bins out of storage. Moving into a dorm room stripped bare every summer is a long task, but we prop our doors open and the hot Chicago wind blows through the open windows, and there are people arriving, people welcoming, people shouting, downstairs in the Plaza.

The new students have already moved in. Seven of them. August, of course, means new friendships and new faces and new voices in the hall, and it’s funny to think that August has no idea what May will look like. But May looks back and August is hopeful, excited, anticipatory.

The new students are here, and the returning students fill in the empty rooms every day. There are more doors opening and shutting every morning, on the way to and from the shower, meetings, breakfast, New Student Orientation functions. There are more soft, padding steps on the flat hallway carpet. This floor is coming alive.

But not everyone is back. Ellie Rose lives across the hall, three doors down. At the end of last school year, I stayed on campus until the very end, until graduation, and that last night, four of us (Ellie Rose being one), we laid on that dingy hallway carpet, amidst the suitcases and Goodwill and garbage bags. Packing up is a hard thing to do; I don’t understand how everything so expands, grows, accumulates at school. So we laid there at one in the morning, taking a break from all that packing. Then in the morning life began again, and we went to graduation, finished packing, moved out.

But that was last May and now it’s August and Ellie is back. She’s brought Spider Boy with her, after hosting his highness all summer long, and working to unpack in my room, I can hear her voice, hear her music, hear her calling for me (she calls me Nataline) just down the hall.

Mar is back. She’s moved from next door to the end of the hall, just one more door down, and once again, May looks back at August and how could I know that I’d spend so much time in that end cap room? A year spent as neighbors, Mar and I have created memories, and her water-blue eyes and gentle smile feel like coming home.

The Neighbor’s not back, though. The Neighbor, whose real name is Krista. The Neighbor with that blonde hair, long down her back, and blue eyes. We get along, we always say, because we’re the only ones who laugh at each other’s jokes. But I think she’s hilarious, and she builds my self-esteem right up; people roll their eyes sometimes, because they can’t see just how funny we really are.

And she laughs at my humor, sends grinning emoticons on the group message that circulates our phone, but she’s not here yet. We’re not quite whole yet.

~~

She came later. Not the very last one to return, but close. With her arrival, she completed our floor. We were waiting for her, counting down the hours until we knew she’d return. She texted in the morning, at the gate, before take-off, after landing, on the train; we asked her for updates constantly. When will you be here?

I didn’t realize she had arrived. There were loud voices, exclamations, in the bathroom, Mar’s, Ellie’s voices ringing loud off the tiled walls. Elevator dinged up and I stepped off, tucking my keys in my pocket. I could hear the noise from the hallway. Three voices, I recognized them instantly: Ellie. Mar. Krista.

Krista!

I ran the last two steps to the bathroom, pushed through the swinging door. Two rows of stalls, a sink and the showers at the back, the girls are in the middle, in the center of the room. The Neighbor had her back to me, that white-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail that brushed her back with every swing of her head. I said her name, must have, because she turned around and then those bathroom walls shook with echo because we were screaming and hugging and the other two were yelling, and we were all talking at once, and suddenly, everyone was back.

Everything was just right.

~~

The summer will change things, of course. The upcoming months will grow relationships, stretch them, change us all. And there will be new hearts on the floor this August, new friends, new family. And there will be old friends, too. Returning students, hearts I know, stories I’m familiar with, faces I love. And we’ll count down the hours until everyone’s back, and we’ll yell in the hallways, laughing, talking all at once when another sister steps off the elevator, makes her way down the hall. Things will be different, but they’ll be the same, too. Because these friends are family and these friends are sisters, and everything will be all right.

~Natalia

School Home Family

29 Mar 2013 1 Comment

by nataliaria in Family, God, Happiness, Home, Love, Moody Bible Institute, Remember, Target, Train

I’ve written before about my dorm floor at school. I’ve told you about my dorm. I’ve written about The Neighbor and The Roommate and Nelle and Jen and Mar and Ellie Rose, and the collection of other lovelies that live up and down that carpeted hall. I’ve told you how I want to remember these times, these conversations, these friends.

I’ve told you all that and it’s all been true: I love the school I attend, the floor that I live on, the ladies I live with. But recently, these past weeks, a shift that’s been creeping up quiet came slowly into focus, and I realized that my floor really is a home; these girls really are sisters.

It sounds a little bit redundant, probably, or maybe simplistic and obvious. Of course it’s home- I’ve lived there for almost two school years. Of course they’re sisters- aren’t we all family in Christ anyway?

And yes, I have lived on the floor rather a while (and I have every intention of returning to the same room this fall), and yes, we are all children of God, but these past days, I’ve settled into that floor, that home, like never before. God dropped me onto the floor, pushed me right along with That Roommate, 18 months ago, and I can only believe that He’s the One who’s making it home, making us family, now.

It’s a funny feeling, almost. Funny because I didn’t even think about it, didn’t realize it until later, because it all felt so natural, so settled, so peaceful, so right.

Felt like that when Jenny and I dumped backpacks in rooms, and grabbed jackets and purses for a Tuesday afternoon outing to Target. Maybe you remember that my love for Target is deep and wide, and it’s a long and lengthening list of floor sisters who I’ve accompanied on errands to that wonderful red and white store.

Jen and I rode the train, just a short trip deep under the busy Chicago streets, and it felt even shorter because there’s a bond of mutuality from living, studying, being together on that floor, and we talked about everything. We got to the big Target, the Roosevelt one, and pushed the cart up and down Easter aisles, past the school supplies, upstairs to look at mattress pads, and to survey the cute baby clothes, because we had a little time. Walking back down the hill is easier, and I bought a snack, we took turns dipping miniature crackers into the accompanying frosting all the way back to the underground train.

I study and I work, and my calendar is full of little boxes delineating just what there is to be done, but sometimes those things can be done alongside others; I took my computer into Nelle’s room the next day, to study and socialize. But she wasn’t there, even though she said she’d be, and the opportunity couldn’t be passed up. So I slipped right into that space between the wall and the bed, and knees curled to my chest, that’s where I did homework. And soon enough, the door clicked and swung open, and I waited a moment before raising my head, peeking my eyes over the side of the bed, and what a stroke of luck. Nelle was looking my way, and the silent surprise of a head appearing on the side of the bed made her eyes spread wide and her eyebrows shoot high, and in the moment before she could raise her voice against my creeping, we were already laughing.

We do Target and creeping and homework and laughing, but she comes into my room on Monday night, because the door was open, and I’m on the bed, surrounded by homework, doing not a thing. So she sits on my desk chair and I was right there on the bed, we talked about God and boys and sovereignty and fear, and the verse that she put on my wall.

And really, when you think about it, there’s so much that could go wrong, so much that could get off, that when 24 girls come together to make home, it really can only be the work of God.

~Natalia

Images of Disney

27 Mar 2013 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in Family, Happiness, Kiddos, Little Sisters, Photos

I’ve written, told you about our wonderful day at Magic Kingdom, but I thought it was time to show you some photos of our Disney Day, too.
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Early morning with cousin Catherine and Cinderella’s castle!

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Wonderful aunt, uncle and cousins!

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An image quite accurately capturing our respective feelings regarding roller coasters!

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The mother and little princesses arrived for the parade, which of course meant another view of Cinderella’s castle!

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The girls try their hand at pulling King Arthur’s sword from the Stone!

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Absolutely worth it to break the No Cameras rule on the Under Sea Adventure ride to capture the look of joy on the mother’s face!

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The long-awaited and much-anticipated Meeting of Ariel!

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Four cousins and Rapunzel’s tower!

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The patience of the little ones stretched far beyond my own in the line to meet Tinkerbell (but, then again, they’re the ones who got to meet her…)!

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And, to cap off a fantastic day: hugs, kisses, and a photo op with Mickey Mouse himself!

~Natalia

Disney Day

16 Mar 2013 1 Comment

by nataliaria in Family, Happiness

The cousins and aunt and uncle pick me up early. The sun’s still orange, floating bit by bit higher over the Orlando highway maze. There’s discussion over which exit- Google can’t be wrong, can it? But they’ve devoted three exit ramps to Disney World, and the sign above the road says Welcome in big curly letters, which is all rather exciting.

Our lot is called Simba and we take the ferry across in the cold, March air, and then they’re handing us our Disney ID cards and mine has Donald Duck on it. They scan your finger print at the turn stile, and then we’re inside and it’s not yet 9am.

Marie from Aristocats and Goofy are standing in the main square, and Mary Poppins walks by accompanied by three penguins, and down Main Street, there’s The Castle. There’s a plan we’re following, and David has an iPhone app, and ten minutes later, there’s a FastPass for Space Mountain in my pocket with the Donald Duck Card. The very first ride, now we’re really kicking off our Disney Day, the Haunted Mansion is my first haunted house.

I kept a list, all through the day, of all those rides we went on, because I knew I’d forget. But early in that morning, we’re getting the feel for how Magic Kingdom is arranged; we find Pirates of the Caribbean and go on a Jungle Cruise before we march up the ramp to that Space Mountain. And inside the mountain is dark, and they’ve got us whirling all around, up and down and back and forth, and I keep my arms up, screaming laughing, but we’re whipping sideways and my arms get tired.

There’s an escalator ramp out of that futuristic ride, and we’re all laughing, shaking a little bit because roller roasters will do that to you. And some of us, we love it just enough, we plan to come back later, sometime in this Disney Day. There’s another FastPass, this time for Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, and we eat lunch in there, too. We explore Tom Sawyer’s Island, jumping hard on that bouncing, wobbling barrel bridge, and then the sun’s coming out marvelously when we stand watching on the top deck of the Steam Boat.

The parade will start soon, and the aunt and the cousin save us seats on the curb, and the rest of us head back to the Main Square, because Mom and the little ones are here. Then we’re all standing on the bridge and all the floats are passing and the girls are waving, waving, waving as their princesses dance past.

They ride the Carousel- we all do, and we wave, wave, wave as those horses go around. Larissa’s hoping, wishing to meet Ariel today, and there’s an Ariel ride, too. We buy ice cream while two characters teach the gathered crowd to curtsy and bow, and then we snake our way long through Ariel’s Undersea Adventure. We sit in shells and these rides, they roll through the stories, and the child my partner flincheS when Ursula comes out, but the black lights make her socks glow purple in that under sea ride, and she kicks her feet happy.

And then’s the big moment, we’re waiting in line to meet Ariel, and the girls hold autograph books and pens and I’m nervous, too, actually. And then it’s our turn and they climb up on the shell next to her and she exclaims over their shirts (her favorite color, she says) and Larissa, she’s the quiet one, she just gazes up at that mermaid. And we’re taking pictures all over, and Larissa’s glasses are Flounder’s favorite color she says, and she hugs those matching girls and we wave goodbye out the door.

And after that, we meet Tinkerbell and another fairy, too, and take pictures in front of Rapunzel’s tower, and the girls try to pull that Sword right out of the Stone. And then the family, we reunite for the Peter Pan Ride; Mom and the girls and I, we all ride in the same boat soaring over Neverland, and the girls, they still talk about Smee.

And we stop for dinner, and then the Winnie the Pooh line isn’t quite so long. It’s a new ride, and a cute one; I’ve always liked Pooh. Then we rush, rush over to seats the cousins have saved for the fireworks. And we find them easy, I was surprised, and they’ve got seats right in front of that Princess Castle and there’s a light show projected on The Castle before the fireworks even begin and the Mother took 17 minutes of video because it was that good.

And then Tinkerbell is flying right above, and Larissa’s so excited she just points and points and then fireworks and music, this really is the Happiest Place on Earth.

But it doesn’t end there because we wait for the crowd to move towards that gate, and then we follow, and we’re in that warm building, in line to meet Mickey. It’s the best thing to end with, because the line is short and we get time and the room, just all ourselves. And Mickey kisses our cheeks and we take pictures, pictures, and he’s the one who started it all, isn’t he?

And then the girls, they’re done (but Mom had such a time, she can’t bear to leave and she tells me later they stayed another hour, watching the Light Parade twirl around the Square). And I’m back with the cousins, we visit Monsters, Inc, the Laugh Floor, and it is truly funny, and then David and I, hours ago, we ran back and got that last FastPass, and we end our time with Space Mountain, one last time.

And then back on the train, back on the trolley, back to Simba parking. 16 hours is a long, long day, but really, the Happiest Day on Earth.

~Natalia

Happy Thought

08 Mar 2013 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in Family, Happiness, Little Sisters, Remember

Maybe it was me, maybe it was the brother, but one of the two was always requesting happy thoughts. We traded bunks, top and bottom, back and forth we switched, and always, someone wanted happy thoughts.

So the parent, whichever was there to talk, to tuck in, to return back to sleep, they gave happy thoughts. Ideas, memories, anticipations. They talked about things already done and things not yet accomplished and things sitting on the toy shelf in the front. Friends, family, fun. They gave us happy thoughts.

And sometime, maybe after the list ended, maybe even as we lay listening to this growing list of blessings and joys, we fell asleep. Those happy thoughts worked.

And tonight I called her Little Taco and she likes tucking into the space between wall and bed, likes the cold wall, she says. But taco or not, she’s not sleeping, she’s not ready, and suddenly, I remember happy thoughts. So I start. First it’s things we have to look forward to: next week, tomorrow, two weeks. And then memories, and then right now: friends, family, ideas, joys. She’s still not convinced, and then we’re talking about the Monterey Bay Aquarium and now I’ve got her.

First the jellyfish. She’s interested now, thinking. And that’s what I want: you’ve got to think to have happy thoughts. And I used to know how jelly fish ate, but I don’t anymore, so I say we’ll look it up tomorrow. Happy thought. And there are penguins, too. Did you know that she sleeps with two penguins? That line of stuffed animals along the pillow, two of them are penguins. How big are penguins? She asks. And the babies? We discuss and she waves the largest of the two plush animals in the dark air for comparison. This big? Happy thought.

She was little then, but she remembers that little pool, where delicate dark fingers stroked a pink starfish. She liked that, and the otters, too. She likes otters, she adds sleepily. Happy thought. And we talk about other things, too. There in that bottom bunk sister bed, while the littlest lies asleep, hands tucked folded under little chin. And there’s a whole bunch of happy thoughts more that I don’t have to mention; she’s starting to get the hang of this now. She doesn’t say the words: I do that. But she’s involved now, inventing, remembering, wondering.

And then finally, I tell her it’s time to close her eyes, because mine are already falling closed anyway, but she has a couple more things to say before then. And then Well, Goodnight! the Little Taco snuggles deeper into her wall-mattress-pillow pocket and it’s quiet.

Because we’re all thinking our happy thoughts.

~Natalia

All I Need to Write

15 Jan 2013 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in College, Friends, God, Happiness

I can’t figure out how I feel about

nights when I sit down to blog

and there are so many things I could tell you,

that I’m really not sure which to choose.

I wish it was anything but the first week of classes-

third week would really be nice.

Because there’s no routine when we’ve all just returned,

and I’m tired of syllabi.

But every I wish chases contentment away,

and He’s put so much beauty and grace into every day

that I wish is no, thanks to the God who creates

and tonight, I’m doing just fine.

Thankful sounds shallow

but what else do you say

because The Roommate and The Neighbor and the Jen down the hall

come into the room for awhile tonight.

The Roommate says to stop mocking her,

but she knows I’m joking,

she knows we’re all joking,

and you know that feeling after you laugh for a long time,

where you cough and you sputter,

and maybe it’s funny that laughing sometimes hurts.

I made a to-do list and it’s stressing me out,

but it’s silly because what is there to stress?

Because I could list so much good

and I could list such things hard,

but good would out-list bad,

and even if it didn’t,

God’s a great, grand, gracious God.

And that’s all I need to write.

~Natalia

Christmas Snapshot

25 Dec 2012 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in Casa Hogar, Chicago, Christmas, Family, Food, Friends, God, Happiness, Love, Mexico, Sovereign

It’s been four years since we were in this city, this state, this home, for Christmas, but if Christmas is His incarnation, redemption born in a stable, then it’s not just a day we’re commemorating; it’s a way of life. A way of life that breathes grace and mercy, wears redeemed like a cloak, and leaves God’s love deep in everything we touch, do, say.

December 25th is one day, one very special day, but it’s not so much different from any other day, because this day and those days God is truth, God is love, and God is just, and Jesus is the perfect redeemer we’re drowning without. The special of today is not that He’s more Him today than any other; the special of this day is that today we’re thinking about it.

Today just as any other this is a building of six separated, but the lines swirl unreadable between neighbors and friends, between friends and family, and there are four breakfast casseroles here. Our ceiling is their floor, all day, every day, but today, we’re all sitting around one table, please pass the mango juice, and can you even imagine the weaving of life strings in this room?

Because I’ve got a story and upstairs has a story, across the hall, too. My story is me and yours is you, but there’s one God who holds all stories in the palm of His grand Story. And I know He’s wise, I know He’s sovereign, because He’s winding each story together and I’ll never quite understand. I’ll never quite understand how story meeting story means there’s wise words to soothe nervous hearts, little hands ready to play together, and six units of family wound together tight just when we need it.

December 25th is a snapshot of a year; close your eyes, I bet you can tell me where you were last 12/25, and the one before and before, well into years behind. True for you and true for me and turn around, last year today the mexican sun was hot and white bright through the VIPS window. And it’s funny because it really all started in this mexican diner chain; Mexico City in 2008, I’d been in Mexico four hours and really didn’t know what I had ordered.

Last year little family squinting in the sun in a downtown Mexico diner, at least we all know what we ordered. This year there’s snow finally, finally, dusting the Chicago streets outside, and I’m peeling dinner potatoes when Mom says call Mexico.

I always hesitate, and I’m really not sure why, but I call the Casa Hogar and Christmas has traditions, they’re all watching movies. But the voice on the other end rings happy, hits deep in my heart. Wise woman, woman whose love binds tight and holds strong. And we’re trading words over this Skype call; asking questions, murmuring assent and understanding, soaking up details because it’s been a long time and it’ll be longer until we’re face to face.

And then Rubi’s on the line and I suddenly realize that different countries, schools, families, skin tones really don’t matter because three years running friendship, Rubi was in my class at school in Mexico. And there’s a grip, a trust settling in my heart, because I trust Him to do well, and I trust Him to do right, and these are not friendships I have to fight to keep a grasp on, these are gifts He’s given because He is gracious.

And later, later, the day’s winding down but my phone is buzzing and cousins are friends, too, and the cousin-sister sends me back to Skype, once more. And it’s funny because I can hear them maybe a little, but they can’t hear me. But a picture is worth a thousand words and a video chat is worth more; words or no words. The other side of the country is 4×6 inches on my computer screen and I’m waving and blowing kisses to family I adore.

And Christmas is a day just like any other, and God is God every hour always, but pause, celebrate: Christmas is so very special, too.

~Natalia

Down to Now

26 Nov 2012 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in Beauty, Books, Chicago, Christmas, College, Family, Happiness, Moody Bible Institute, Train

Not a particularly stressful day, although my calendar’s full with to-dos; systematically highlighting purple stripes across my planner as more and more things are accomplished. Not a stressful day, per se, but the end of the semester feel has descended like a thundercloud over campus and it feels… different.

We’re not looking forward to a break in the semester, counting down to days enjoying turkey with the family all around; that already happened and now there’s nothing between us and Christmas break. Four weeks of papers, projects, and assignments stretch between us and break. And on a bad day, that seems like a rather long time.

But it wasn’t a bad day.

Checklist goes on and one thing follows on the heels of another task, and the week always starts off like this. I’ve never been to the Chicago public library, but I need to go- grab book bag, grab U-Pass, grab notebook, and the train platform’s close by.

I don’t check my phone and I’m secretly proud, I like the adventure of going and not sure where. It’s nice to have a map, always a blue dot right where I am, right when I need to know, but it’s also fun not to know, and it’s a little excitement on this Monday afternoon.

The train’s easy enough because the library has its own stop, and I’m not halfway down the platform steps when the green signs catch my eye. Chicago Public Library, the big library, is right around; there are signs for it everywhere. Clink thud down to the bottom of the stairs and there’s a second while I stand, neck craned back, craned up, that I’m suddenly a skyscraper-gazing tourist. But the feeling doesn’t last long because the green signs don’t just tell, they indicate, and bright green announcements are flapping in the wind above my head, and the train has dumped me at the very entrance of the massive library.

There’s a funny comfort, an odd exhilaration in the anonymity of a crowd, in being just me, one of so many, exploring things, sorting out things I’ve never done before. There’s so many, many escalators here, and this library is so very big and I’m suddenly thinking of my aunt, who’s been a librarian almost as long as I’ve been alive.

I’ve a library card now and the desk worker instantly recognizes my address as Moody. Her nod to Moody erases a bit of the anonymity I claimed when I walked into the huge, beautiful building, but I really don’t mind. Just now I’ve swathed myself in no one knows, but with one glance she’s peeled back a layer to ah, Moody Bible, and there’s safety and warmth in identity, too.

Find my books, check my books, it’s a big place with people everywhere, and I’m proud of myself for finding the books I need so quickly, so efficiently. It’s good, too, because there are more books to read back at school and class starts at 6pm and tomorrow’s another day full of check marks and purple highlighter success streaks my life.

The escalators only go one way, as escalators tend to do, and one time Alison and I ran up the down escalator in Marshalls, but this is not the time and it’s three wrong turns before I’m back to the beginning again. The hallway to the exit is tall and smooth and there’s art on the walls, too. I remember how to get out now, I came in this way, but I’m still looking around because I like new and I like this and I don’t want to miss anything.

The door is tall and heavy and I push through to the street. I’m standing in the shadow of the train tracks, and the city’s swirling by on either side. This errand, this adventure, was quicker than I anticipated, and I’ve more time now than I thought. The library is big, so very big, and helpful, too, and a seed of contentment at my success sprouts happy.

And there’s a yellow taxi in front of the door, waiting for costumers, waiting for someone to call. I’ve no need; I’ll take the train, but somewhere far above my head a wreath hangs on the towering building, and the taxi’s dark window reflects the festive bright wreath perfectly, a circle of Christmas light shining waxy back at me from the backseat window of an empty cab.

And the train’s high above and the ride’s through the city, and decorations shine everywhere in the setting sun, and there are books in my bag and books on my desk, and the days click down to now and it all just feels right.

~Natalia

Caterpillar

25 Nov 2012 1 Comment

by nataliaria in Family, Games, Happiness, Thanksgiving, Travel

I’ve been writing a blog post for almost an hour now. Not actively; I just started typing seconds ago. But I pulled my computer onto my lap forever ago, clicking open Google Chrome, watching the mouse slide across the screen as if of its own accord. I should have written an hour ago, but I didn’t and I’m here now and really, how much difference does an hour make?

I returned to school this evening after a wonderful, wonderful Thanksgiving break with my family in Michigan. There’s a long and lengthening list of things that we do every Thanksgiving weekend, every time we celebrate together, and there’s a settled comfort between flying from event to event, outing to outing, and enjoying the soft, enjoying the quiet, in our time together.

And I’m here again for the first time in days and my insides are turning a little, and I’m beginning to feel just a little unsettled, and I think I just figured out why. Because maybe tradition isn’t code for easy, and wonderful doesn’t translate to simple. And I’m starting to think that what I need right now is just a little time to process.

Because the air mattress makes a sound every time I blink, and I’ll eventually fall asleep with my phone under me, but flip flip squeak over and stay awake for a while. Cousins are two years apart and this time, this night-time to talk and laugh and be is what we treasure.

Because maybe it wasn’t to our advantage to divide teams generationally; there’s wisdom with age, and there’s accumulated knowledge as well, and if we get one more question about 1930s movie stars, we’re going down. But Catchphrase is catch-all and even the littles pipe up on this one, and slip of the tongue- no, that’s what I meant, we’re all sitting in this room, and the game’s beeping out of time, but nobody cares because we’re all laughing too hard.

Because there’ve been more than family members around here, now, and friends make their way through our weekend, too. And it’s gift giving time and friend sits behind because this is family Christmas, after all. But there’s a gift bag with her name, too, and tears sometimes come when our name’s not what we were expecting, and deep happiness runs under it all.

And back at school The Neighbor’s laughing and these walls are thin. And Jen taps on the door and Mary knows me well. Liv and I talk profs we love and I hear a greeting down the hall and someone vacuumed and Nelle says like coming home.

I don’t have head space for thoughts that need sorting, or heart space for emotions conflicting strong. But Skype ding and What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly. And my heart grabs tight onto something there, but I can’t figure out if it’s supposed to apply to my school work or my heart, or my future.

But then again, I guess that’s what makes me the caterpillar.

~Natalia

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