It's The Little Things

I read Lach's blog the other day and really enjoyed her post about the little joys - those wonderful memories that came from an ordinary day. It got me thinking about mine.

Montana was really hard for me. I felt isolated, in more than one sense, and I was fighting with my mom all the time (I hear 16 year-olds do that). One day my dad suggested he and I go for a jog. We bundled up and shuffled across snow and ice, and had a really great time doing it. So we made it a ritual. He would come home from work and we'd change into our sweats and mittens. Sometimes we would talk and sometimes we would enjoy the crunching of the snow below our feet, our crisp breathing, and the occasional deer scampering across the road. That kind of silence can only be found during a Montana winter.

The morning after Logic proposed to me, I woke up with butterflies in my stomach. I stared at the ring for a long time, feeling excited and scared all at once. (Marriage is a huge commitment, after all.) I so badly wanted to go across the hall and tell my friend, Lilikoi, but she wasn't awake yet. So I tried to occupy my time. I showered, lotioned up with Cotton Blossom (that smell will forever remind me of that day) and listened to some Shania Twain. Then I heard her use the sink. I bolted to my feet and barged into her room. With my arm behind my back, I tried to act casual but ended up belting out that Logic proposed. As I whipped my arm around, she had to stabilize it because I was shaking. And the rest is a blur.

I was staying with Laurie for the summer and had just returned from a day of work at the mall. I walked through the front door and heard the jingling of a collar. The next thing I knew my parent's dog, Maggie, came running down the hallway to greet me. Instinctively I knelt down to pet her and when I stood back up, I saw my parents standing in the bedroom. They'd driven 7 hours to surprise us with an extended weekend trip. It was a wonderful surprise.

Paige and I shared a room in Kennewick, much to her dismay. I was 10, she was 15. She set up a barrier to try and maintain some privacy and sense of personal space. If memory serves, it was a string that she strategically wrapped around all the important things in our room. (My side of the room had my bed and a path to the door.) So on the days when Paige wasn't mad at me, I got to "share" the room with her. We would do chores together and even help each other make our beds. She would get on one side and I'd be on the other, and then we'd race to see who could finish their side first. One particularly fun day, I remember racing Paige as the song Kokomo by the Beach Boys came on the radio. That song still brings a smile to my face.