memories – Page 3 – startwithsparkles

Roxanne

November 16, 2015December 30, 2015 Rachel Ann5 Comments

When I was a young girl there was an amazing human in my life. Her name was Roxanne.

She and my mother were in a mahjong group together. If I listen carefully to my mind’s eye I can still hear the tiles as they would gently slide across the table and click slowly into place.

Four players.

Four women.

All of them bound by a unique organization called Hadassah.

The word Hadassah itself translates from the Hebrew word meaning: compassion. Which further explains the namesake of the organization that is run in Israel known as Hadassah.

With compassion I write tonight.

I thought a great deal about Roxanne this past week.

I had the opportunity to spend time with my thirteen year old niece who is a wonderful young lady. It’s crazy for me to stop and look back upon my memories with her. We met when she was six months old, a tiny sleeping baby in a crib visiting her Grandparent’s and Uncle Andy with her mother. Now she is a tall, beautiful, smart, sarcastic, and quick-witted teenager making her way in the world.

I thought of Roxanne when I drove to pick up my niece that morning.

Her small stature. Her quiet mischievous grin when I knew we were about to embark on an adventure together.

The little girl with the long brown hair and dimple that flashed with glee upon entry to her home.

She was the mother of two boys, always wishing for a girl to dote upon. She later became an amazing grandmother to a lucky little girl who I am sure felt the same way I did when spending time with this woman.

I was such a lucky girl circa at the age of six.

I so admired her immaculate persona, the air of Chanel on her person, Gucci hanging from her arms, and the red nails like slippers donned upon each finger tip.

What I loved most of all about her was how she made me feel.

They say that what people remember most about you is how you make them feel. It is ever so true friends.

She always made me feel like a talented princess. Roxanne had this special way of creating a make-believe world in her basement with me. I would dress up and march around waving my imaginary scepter, and she played along as a royal subject. Pink cheeks, singing Disney songs, and bouncing from couch to couch.

Little did she realize that along with my parents, especially my mom, they all helped set the stage for my belief in the magic of the theatre. I was a tiny star in her living room creating a world of imagination and ruling the castle one couch at a time.

I can fondly recall upon one play date when her husband came home and threw on his Groucho Marx mask and wig. I was scared out of my wits and jumped into this tiny woman’s lap. She laughed and laughed and yelled at her husband Gary to take off the mask while I squealed into her chest.

Another special event took place on a gray spring Anchorage day. Dad dropped me off and went about whatever errands he and my mom had to take care of that afternoon. I spent the day with Roxanne watching a Disney film, playing on the kitchen table while she prepped a meal for lunch. Then suddenly she looked at me and said, “Do you hear that? It’s the ice cream man!” She rushed me outside with her, she darted past the rain puddles and into a stream of sunshine. The rainbow sherbet pop wasn’t the greatest treat that day. It was the memory that became nestled into my brain instead. Now, I think of her when I see raindrops and sunlight touch, meeting again for a moment back in that afternoon sky.

Sometimes I think I can see her in a crowd. That shoulder length reddish-brown hair with the crisp blunt edges swaying just above a black turtle neck sweater and Chanel-esque cardigan.

She wrote to me at sleep away camp in 1997. I was in the grim years of my life, the early teens, the awkward age of 13. This time was marked by training bras, awaiting the time when I would finally become a woman…oh we ladies know what I am talking about…

My mom called and asked her to write because even back then, I had quite a mighty sword with my pen.

I wrote to my parents telling them how homesick I was. How alone I felt. That I had no friends and no one to talk to. This was all true the first of the three weeks of camp. I slowly fell into a rhythm and made a couple of friends. But this is a story for another blog post.

The point was that Roxanne was there when it was needed.

She even wrote me as a pen pal the first year we moved to our new lower 48 state home. I should dig out those letters sometime. I have them all still, along with all my other correspondence over the years with friends and family.

Taking my niece out for a girls date of coffee treats, mall shopping, and laughing made me ache with a desire to call my sweet Roxanne and say thank you.

Thank you for making me feel beautiful when I was an ugly duckling waiting to blossom.

Sometimes life deals you these cards that are just glaringly unfair.

I wish there was a magic eight ball of time that I could shake and go back to that place and find her and embrace her and say all that is on my mind.

However, that’s not the case. It’s not possible. As much as I wish it were.

So instead, I laughed with my niece that day, and I looked at her with love in my eyes. I hug those moments in time when we can laugh like I did with Roxanne and enjoy the simple things about being a girl. Discuss the in’s and outs of life as we pass by glittering dresses we hold up for one another and joke about trying the ridiculous attire on.

Roxanne, you made me feel beautiful. Your spirit comes forth whenever I see a rainstorm pass over and the sunshine through the clouds.

I can only hope that one day my niece might think back and say, “Aunt Rachel made me feel beautiful and loved.”

Sparkles for Roxanne.

Fathers and Daughters

June 21, 2015 Rachel Ann6 Comments

Dear Friends,

There is something to be said about the bond between a father and a daughter. My father was the first model of a what a man could be like in another person’s life. There are certain things that trigger fond memories for me. I think psychologists call it the, “close connection to the limbic system.” This is the area in the brain that is connected to the olfactory bulb which is associated with feelings and connections to memories. (Insert warm fuzzies here.)

My hippocampus, or associative learning response for senses that were conditioned responses linked to memories are quite strong when it comes to my childhood and family. More specifically, my father. Whenever I smell strong caffeinated coffee I think: Dad, especially, wait for it…Folgers. “The best part of waking up, is Folgers in your cup.” Gotta love a good jingle every now and then, right?!

More smell memories come to mind… Polyester material, old spice, dial soap, the list could continue you on and on…

There are other conditioned responses that also come to mind when I hear specific poetry, read works of literature, or listen to music.

My father was my first dance partner. I think he was over joyed when I really began to dig the 1950’s tunes from the days of his teenage years. He taught me how to jitterbug on the thick rug in our family room. Jamming out to the cassette tape I got for my birthday. His creaky 50 year old knees moving and-a-grooving to the sounds of the harmonized voices.

My competitive streak comes from my father’s side of the family. You don’t want to play a board game with me…or maybe you do?! My nephew and I had a raucous last two summers of playing Monopoly games that went on for DAYS. I was a terrible Auntie influence whenever I lost. I’d demand a re-match! When he learned about hotels in Monopoly land, it was all over…but I digress. Thanks for that dad!

Dad taught me how to play, “Old Maid,” “Go fish,” solitaire, “Shoots and Ladders,” and chess. He purchased this beautiful chess set in Malaysia on his all star paid tour of South East Asia, as he likes to refer to it, or better known as, the Vietnam War. Not most people my age have a parent that served in this war, but mine did. This chess set always made me wonder about where it was created, what my father saw, and experienced beyond the short lived stories he would share with us as kids.

This chess game set the stage for years of Thanksgiving post-dinner time fun, Winter break hours spent at the dining room table, and summer hours ticking by. I learned what each piece represented, was valued as, and the basics of chess strategy. We later became quite obsessed when watching, “Searching for Bobby Fischer,” taking the interest in chess and bond between us just a little bit further.

How many of you save pocket change? Anyone collect coins?

The summer of 1995 my grandfather shipped $25 worth of coins to my dad. We went through each and every coin that summer, searching for one thing and one thing only: A 3 legged buffalo head nickle. Now, here’s the thing about the coin we were searching for: it was printed in 1937 D, the buffalo stamp had 3-legs, and it was valued between – $500.00-$1000.00
This peeked my eleven year old interest in many ways. I used that giant magnifying glass and helped search through every coin we had. I learned about history, and numismatics. However, more importantly I learned about my family’s history and the connection between what collecting and being a researcher meant to my dad and grandfather.

The list of hobbies that my dad helped support goes on and on. He built my sister and I a clubhouse, with his own hands. We had two sandboxes, a ladder going up the backside and a slide going down the front, it was built upon 4 stilts and looked like a giant cache. For my fellow Alaskans, we know that a cache is a small house built on stilts, that was used for drying salmon. 🙂 When the slide began to chip away he took that down and built a miniature staircase and two accompanying swing sets.

When I decided that miniatures was my thing at age twelve he helped me put electricity into my doll house, running tape wire along the walls of all three levels and showing me the basics of conductors and insulators. When we finally got that dang thing to light up the dining room chandelier we jumped around that room and high fived each other.

I can’t forget the hours of driving to and from piano lessons, recitals, the few competitions I participated in, or the endless voice lessons he drove me to. We have shared, cried, and loved music together. You and Debbie were my first duet partners. I know that we could still play a mean rendition of, “Heart and Soul.” Although my favorite thing to hear you play and sing is, “Stranger in Paradise.” Thank you for introducing me to Edith Piaf and Johnny Cash, among just a few of the great legends you’ve loved and passed along.

After thirty one years with a father who loved, supported, and encouraged me I have gathered many stories, collected many tears, and memories along the way. However, a few dad-isms are being passed on from me to my students each and every day. Here’s just a few to brighten your day below. Thanks for being my father Jim. I love you to the moon and back. Love, Your Favorite Youngest Daughter

“Molehills are mountains if you want them to be…

Half of life is showing up kid, so show up.

You gotta learn how to fight your own battles at some point.

The squeaky wheel gets the grease.

Hey sugar, pumpkin, kid!

90% of communication is non-verbal, so watch what you do, and also say…

Kill ‘em with kindness.

Always keep a sense of humor about yourself, laugh and joke it off…”

~Jim Hipsher…isms….~

Dear Andy and Rachel…

March 20, 2015 Rachel AnnLeave a comment

Dear Andy and Rachel in 2003,

Who could have been certain to know where we would end up twelve years later? The first date occurred because you asked me out after we discussed what we were both “not” doing on black Valentines Friday. You see when you are nineteen and twenty three, you are certain that everything you feel is truly from the depths of your soul and that it will be for an ever-lasting period of time. I had no idea about what I knew for certain in life, but I did know that there was something special that connected us two.

Life is made up of choices.

And I chose you. And you chose me.

We had no idea what we faced on March 19, 2005. The future was laid out before us, much like the aisle way that lead us before our family and friends during our marriage ceremony. Traditional in a sense, but unconventional all the way. Our sisters stood at our sides and also lead the ceremony that joined us in a union that we cherish to this day.

The first moments we spent together were quiet and nestled in what I call the bowels of the Lincoln Hall building at PSU. Only the most unromantic of all buildings in the city of Portland. However, I found those sacred moments tucked away into hallway corners as romantic as they come. I can still feel the pitter patter of my heart beat as I think about our stolen kisses between classes and performing arts venues.

We had no idea the storms we would weather together in the next ten years of time.

I have often been asked the following questions, usually in succession too many times to count: “How long have you been married? Wait, when did you get married? How old are you?” The responses are often filled with shock, or with some sort of unwanted commentary. Mostly, I believe, people smile and are pleasantly surprised. I appreciate the cynicism and welcome their doubts.

Nat King Cole’s words echo in my mind when these inquiries are made, “They tried to tell us we’re to young. Too young to really be in love. They say that loves a word, a word they’ve often heard, but never really known the meaning of.”

I watched a video recently with Beyonce commenting on her life, her passions, and her experiences as a female performing artist. A specific line about her marriage resonated with me. It was the following, “People feel like they loose something when they get married. I don’t agree…There’s something exciting about having a witness to your life,” Beyonce.

I have compiled, but will not limit our experiences to bare witness to thus far. In the last ten years, we have a list, there have been too many tales or tails, what have you…to make a running commentary on all of the events that have transpired. I thought this might make both of us smile, laugh, and cry all together. Just like the great Dolly Parton said, “Laughter through tears, is my favorite emotion.” So here goes my dear, take a deep breath and plunge forward.

-Circa London, England: Brown’s restaurant eleven years ago. The man that kept counting out his bill in single pounds, ever…so…slowly.

-The sparkling white walls in that restaurant seemed to glow more brightly when you handed me that little jewelry box.

-Walking into the flat and having your parent’s beam with anticipation.

-Planning our special day and you demanding we buy a wedding planner binder, who knew you’d want to be so organized. 🙂

-Friends, family, and loved ones gathering around on March 19, 2005 in Oregon.

-Meeting my Grandmother’s cousins and only living relatives on my maternal side. ❤

-The epic airplane journey across the ocean to Hawaii, laced with an episodic second night as, “man and wife,” that involved far too many roaches to make a memory worth describing.

-Becoming one with the sun, and lobsters in human bodies, all in the same day.

-Rainbow license plate obsessions and wild chickens roaming the earth while stalking cats lingered nearby.

-The unwrapping of giant presents and the using of huge mixing bowls to make our first meals together.

-The white fluff ball cat I decided to name Bella entered our lives with fleas flinging from all four of her sides.

-Cat claws, paws, and tears.

-Herding dogs in 800+ square foot spaces makes for interesting conversations.

-Bouncing kitten and bookshelf adventures

-Singing duets with a poorly played saxophone one floor below.

-Midnight phone calls on crackly phone lines

-Learning and exploring how to sing with a belt and win with musical theatre versions of Country songs.

-Being introduced to the one and only Patsy Cline through song.

-First birthday cakes on sheet pans welcoming you home after playing for yet another long weekend of Army work.

-Hanging laundry on the deck door with naked neighbor cats walking far, far below.

-Competing for parking spots that were the size of twin sized beds

-Black lined bathtub confessionals and scrubbing by one’s mother in law grease on elbow grease.

-Moving with cat and dog hair flying around in swirls throughout the hallway

-A sheep herding animal sure she’d be left behind, frantically pacing and panting.

-Moving back upstairs with the same desk multiple, multiple, multiple times

-Riding in the car with unusual smells, and finding tiny brown packages left by our I.B.S. ridden dog who was all too eager to clamor into the front seat of said car. 🙂

-Cold wet nose alarm clocks and black and white bed cover burrowing caves.

-Meeting first our nephew and then our new niece born one month apart.

-Hannukah and Christmas bake off’s with two worlds of tradition in a small apartment.

-Catching the stove on fire and opening all the windows in a 1000 sq. foot apartment all the while welcoming me home from teaching assuring me that nothing was burned….well…not too badly that is.

-Adventures in lone trails and back woods of Oregon in a small kia sephia.

-Camping for a weekend with a lovely crazy dog and fishing for leg trout, I mean trout.

-Plucking pheasants and other such things on a back porch

-Warming our toes with the light of a soon to be discovered expensive fire place

-Opening presents one day early assuredly know one would know, shhhhh.

-Almost burning down the apartment in the middle of the night with the most romantic bathroom candle light possible. Note to self, always blow the candles out.

-Discovering the broken Italian butter dish, with a warm and googy welcome home from said butter thief, who was all too eager to share her discovery.

-Hidden tennis balls beneath the green couch of destiny.

-Closets and litter boxes, enough said.

-Four living beings between five small walls.

-Karaoke sing off’s and $100 cash

-Ivory keys and grand piano sounds resounding in a beautiful home.

-Riding shotgun for tows and flatbed work

-Rebuilding a neighbors fence after driving for way too many hours to be even mentioned.

-Snow storms of the century, locked away for a week together and we still made it out alive and smiling.

-Snuggles with a dog and a cat on one couch

-Sondheim sing off’s in the smallest apartment in Beaverton

-Introduction to the smells of marijuana through bathroom vents, and me searching for rotten eggs…yeah…

-Listening, rehearsing, and debating about the ways of becoming a real life Peanut character.

-Stacks, and piles, and more stacks, and piles of…children’s books, until being cut off…and using the trunk of a car as a new storage site.

-Mine and yours matching ice cream pints.

-Naming our first fish, placing them lovingly in unbalanced pH water, and later fishing them out of said tank when they had traspired.

-Celebrating friend’s marriages, knitting parties, and birthdays over two blissfully exhausting years of stress, work and a masters degree later…

-Studying, conducting, and driving all through a blurry eyed view of the world

-On the brink of winter break, a blurry drive home, a looming move, and a diagnosis we couldn’t yet decipher but yet still lingered.

-35 Boxes and 1 furry gray cat disappearing into a box or two, or 35 later.

-Moving again, and again, and again.

-Coping that first year, needles and oranges, needles, and pavement, needles and running shoes, and finally a first triathlon later.

-Injuries and proud scars, living through the tears with laughter

-Wrapped bandages and a masters degree in hand.

-First half marathon later.

-First interviews and 45 miles a day commute to a first position for four years.

-Four schools later for a woman who was determined to continuously work through a recession that would not relinquish it’s hold on the nation.

-Hearing, “Happiness,” sung by the cutest middle schoolers around.

-Pursing passions on and off stage with art as a focus and collaboration the key to a musical success.

-Tears, laughter, family and friends moving and growing.

-Airplane flights and faux fights.

-The odds of searching, discovering, and purchasing a property we still are discovering

-Clinking of keys and the unlocking of a door to which we own

-The true definition of, “hangry.”

-Learning to speak UK English, French, German, Italian, and Dutch over the course of thirty days, lucky enough to encounter this experience twice in our life times.

-Bonding with humans we love near and far around the country for life.

-Entrusting our fur babies to our amazing adopted daughter of sorts.

-Countless wonders of the world, singing on the Champs Elysses, 14 days, 3 train rides, countless public transit experiences, surviving no-pick pocketing, and 2 passports later, landing back in the land of the US and reuniting with our old lady dog and cat.

-Sending our pup over the rainbow.

-Rescuing when having fallen in the middle of a run.

-Getting running shoes back on after multiple falls.

-Living through looping with students across a town, 25 miles each way for two years.

-The constant patience of a loving man and his ability to listen to each story day in and day out.

-Learning to re-pack a classroom for the seventh time.

-Snuggles in the dark.

-Smashing yellow jackets on or off of my body.

-Pushing each other to be the best people we can be.

-Thinking through if we would rather, “be right or be reconciled.”

-Learning just how communication really plays a key role in any relationship.

-Helping whenever we can lend a hand, or knowing before the other person even realizes it is needed.

-Being a wonderful partner as best we can be on a daily basis.

-Listening.

-Having a best friend brought in out of state, to the school I worked at, and being told your 30th birthday present is…. 🙂

-Loving the best and most unattractive parts of the other person through and through.

-Laughing, and laughing some more.

-Knowing it’s ok to not to like one another sometimes, but always loving them through each emotion.

-Bringing unexpected thoughts, gifts, and hugs when they are needed the most

-Holding hands when we take walks everyday.

-Listening some more.

-Finding ways to spend time together no matter what might occur.

-Playing chaffer to and from Portland.

-Sitting through hours of practice, rehearsal, and more practice of music we have both heard forwards and backwards.

-Wiping away tears when we just can’t make lemonade.

-Sharing our musical gifts together.

-Singing that song after seven years had passed AND rocking it.

-Loving our siblings together.

-Appreciating, caring, and gratifying the amazing parents we were given on this Earth.

-Watching our nieces and nephew grow and reflecting on the people they have become.

-Celebrating and counting the blessings of friendships we have every day with amazing people near and far.

-Believing the best throughout the constant struggle of what life is.

-Being ourselves through and through.

And you my beloved Andy, are my favorite person on this earth. I feel grateful for each day I am bestowed upon with time to spend with you. I admire your humanity, your kindness, your love, and your skills at living life to the fullest. I am proud to be your partner for life. Cheers and let’s toast and say, “L’Chaim,” to another decade. ~’Mwah~ :-*

For my kindred spirit

March 6, 2015 Rachel AnnLeave a comment

Ours started out with ‘spagetti o-’s and a ream of notebook paper. However, this might seem rather strange to the unknowing stranger. So let me set the stage better, shall I?

In 1989 we were both shy, quiet, long brown haired little girls entering kindergarten. I remember you as the tiniest of all us tiny tot’s with a trail of flowing brown hair and a thermos container full of ‘spagetti-o’s. Your best friend was a boy whose name started with the letter D, I won’t involve other people in this birthday blog though. 🙂 Out of pure courtesy of course…

We knew one another because all kindergarteners play together, however we weren’t best friends then though. We were in different classes first through second grade. Then you moved to another school and the elementary years passed by. Cut to 1997 at Hanshew Middle School in Anchorage. The looming hallways, business of middle school days, and crowds of people. I remember seeing you with your violin case on the second floor of our school. Good gravy it’d been a while, but I’m sure we both looked very similar to our little kid faces of ’89. I recognized you and was delighted when we had study hall together.

We re-bonded through the passing of notes and requests for lined notebook paper. Who knew that we’d go through so much paper?! I on the one hand, an early Mary Poppins had pretty much everything I could possibly need and or hold in my binder including excessive amounts of notebook paper. I think one of the most memorable things about that class, aside from sneakily passing notes and reading silently was that study hall teacher’s sneezes and nose blowing. I had never heard a human being make a sound that likened to a trumpet. His ability could have rivaled even the best players in the band, with only a single nose blow. Haha, I chuckle even thinking about it.

Cut to 8th grade, we came up with a secret language, or code, shall we say; for talking about the most important topic for any eighth grade girl to discuss in private… boys. We had Mr. Blue Eyes, Horse guy, Bob, and Fred, I really can’t remember anymore off the top of my head right now, and I’ve already embarrassingly stated enough names as it is. I read through some of those hilarious letters about 7 years ago when I needed to empty out my closet at my folks. Let’s just say that I couldn’t remember how to re-fold many of those triangular shaped letters packed with juicy gossip and all the latest news.

The best summer moments I had with you were in-between June of 1998 and August of 1998. Driving to and from, “Music Machine,” practice with your friend A. on Lake Otis Parkway, your mom patiently carting us around. Those were fun times! We were so cool. I mean, learning how to wear eye liner and mascara was pretty exciting if I do say so myself! I can still see your fancy winged-out liquid liner and blue eye shadow. YOU were so cool. I really couldn’t compare with my Walmart maybelline pink shadow and mascara. 🙂 We got to be partners for, “Make ‘Em Laugh,” and, “Broadway Baby.” Sharing the stage and the lime light with you was the best thing ever. Whatever happened to those shirts any way? Or the video tape of our show?! 🙂

Although, I think one of my favorite memories throughout our years of school together was probably when we shared a locker. I just need to re-paint a picture here of that gigantic locker at Robert Service High School. We were probably, maybe 5 feet, I might have been about 5 foot three at the time in ninth grade, who knows. Point being, we were small people. We could have both fit in this locker if we really had wanted to. I’d wait to meet you and chat first thing in the morning before classes began. Our locker was chock full of all sorts of interesting odds and ends. I still have the same mirror that I did in high school, it now lives on a cabinet in my classroom. It makes me smile and think about those moments we shared. Applying lipsmaker sparkly lip balm was serious business when we were fourteen going on fifteen, right? Or decorating for birthdays?! 🙂 But the best collection and items in the locker were your Sobe bottles. Can we just take a MOMENT please and talk about those damn bottles. Girrrrrrrrrrl I think the only time I have EVER yelled at you, was about those dang bottles. Bahahahhaa, one fell when I opened up the locker and that was it, I started throwing them out, caps and ALL. People must have thought we lost our minds when you saw me throwing them out, you started shoving them in your backpack. OH my, we’re still friends. We surpassed the episode and saga of the bottles. Ha!

Here’s the thing, having written about all those flashbacks. You, my friend are one of those people who come once in a life time. You are a kindred spirit and a friend for life. Even if months pass by, we can always call one another and then a few hours pass by before we even realize how long we have been on the phone. I always love how we can see one another and it’s as if no time has passed by what-so-ever. We both march to our own drum beat. We’re not morning people, we like quiet and subtlety with words, we show kindness and we stand up for what we believe in. Our motto is and always will be: Alaska Girls Kick Ass. Well, that and, “Pudding is better than jello!” Snaps for anyone else that knows where that quote comes from! 🙂 We dance like no one is watching, and don’t give a damn if they are. We wear crazy toe socks and rival Shania Twain at singing in the car at the top of our lungs.

I feel so lucky and grateful to have you in my life. You’re one of the best people I know. You go after what you want to in life and you always have. I’m so proud to call you my friend. I talk about you with my students. They think it’s amazing that I have a best friend who is a high flying skier, death-defying stunt actress, sister, graduate, auntie, creative woman and scientist rolled into one package.

You’re the only other person who has a laugh equally as loud as mine, aside from my big sister. 🙂 We know each other inside and out. If you needed a kidney, I’d be right there to give you mine. When we’re really old, wrinkly, and moving around with glitter canes, we’re gonna live together with our five cats and yell at each other from down the hallway. Like they say in girl scouts, “A circle is round and has no end, that’s how long I want to be your friend.”

I love you! Happy birthday beautiful! May this next year be filled with amazing opportunities, new adventures, and moments of beautiful silence in nature. Big hugs like this one below!!!!! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE!!!!!!

הִנְנִי Hineni Day 30

March 3, 2015March 3, 2015 Rachel Ann2 Comments

הִנְנִי Hineni literally translated means, “Here I am.”

I saw another blogger reference the importance of being present. Place your hand over your heart the meme said, feel that? THAT in and of itself signifies the reason for you today. You are here, you are important, your life has meaning.

I was laying on a doctor’s table and gearing myself up for one of those lovely annual exams and I decided to shift my mind’s focus. I was feeling cranky, tired, and a number of other things. I did a little pep self talk that went something like this, “Ok Rachel, breathe in and out slowly, breathe again, and again just like you tell your students. Ok now let’s look at all the positives about being in this room right now.” I sat there and listed them out one by one by one. I felt a little bit more grateful and better about the situation as the minutes ticked by.

Even though we have been counting down each of these treatments, I am grateful for each and every one of them. The act of visualizing the beams of radiation phasing out the cancerous cells, the happy white blood cells carrying health and rejuvenation throughout your body have been my constant visual and I know yours as well Debbie. Healing repair and perseverance is present today.

Often times I try to meditate through song or chanted prayer. Sometimes it’s with a Debbie Friedman rendition of a prayer, other times it’s just the sh’ma. There is something about those sacred words that makes me feel comforted and safe. I know that הִנְנִי Hineni has been yours Debbie. Thank you to the rabbi’s at your H.K. synagogue for their positivity and support. They are wonderful and loving people. I am so happy to have met them and shared moments of prayer and song with all of us together.

Dad always says, “Life’s too short kid, don’t sweat the small stuff. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.” We’re here today, we’re doing our very best to be bright, be vibrant, and be the best version of ourselves. I feel so grateful for this technology, this writing opportunity to remind you about our joint memories throughout all these years. I love you to the moon and back big sister, just like the Savage Garden song said. 🙂 I know that my next count down will be from tomorrow through July 9th. That is approximately: 121 days until you are back in Oregon and we can embrace in a much-needed hug!!!!!!!

May these next one hundred days be filled with health, finishing chemotherapy, and breathing just slightly easier. You have shown tremendous strength, will, and zest for life. I admire your ability to be forthright, honest, and a fervent researcher. I love you! xoxoxoxoxoxo.

הִנְנִי Hineni

Yellow Herbie Day 15

February 6, 2015February 6, 2015 Rachel AnnLeave a comment

There are ten years between my sister and I. I was always keenly aware of this age difference for the first eighteen years of my life, as I’m sure my sister was as well. Although, to be the little sister is quite different than the elder. For one thing, I was given the opportunity to have a mentor and role model, where she, was given a sweet little shadow that wanted to emulate her every move. 🙂 Adorable at times, but annoyingly awkward and over involved at others.

One such occasion was the summer mom went to Israel. She was graduated and working an office job for the summer and taking care of me in the morning and evenings. I remember being dropped off at summer camp at my elementary school. She’d pick me up at the play ground and I’d run to you and think, “That’s MY sister.” Oh I loved it so much. I felt super cool that my big sis would come get me and drive me home. Teeheee…you never knew eh Debbie?!

Then entered the boy crush for that month. He had a pony tail, and a yellow herbie or volkswagen. I think he also had a pierced ear, what a babe and a rebel right?!

All I remember of him, was the one evening you were helping me wash my hair out and you were on the phone with him.

Man I love thinking about that gray, plastic, cordness/portable telephone. I yelled for you from the bathroom and you popped your head in. “Aren’t you going to help me wash my hair out?” I called.

I could hear his voice come through the phone as you sat down to help me with my long tendrils. “How OLD is your sister, she can’t wash her own hair, woah…” The conversation commenced and you continued to help me. I was covering my eyes with a wash cloth as you poured water over my head. “You know Rachel, you could learn how to rinse out your own hair…” and that was the moment that I knew I was growing up.

As silly as it sounds, it was true though.

She always gave me good advice, she taught me how to do countless things, but in that one silly hair washing moment, I felt a shift, a change, and that sense that, “Huh…I’m not three years old any more.”

Thanks for pushing me to take a baby step forward, and for also helping me with my long knotty hair that summer. I love you! And as for the boy, he wasn’t so great after all. But the yellow herbie car was cool. 😉

xoxo. Have a sparkly fantastic Friday!!