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No One Likes to Wait

No one likes to wait. It is uncomfortable. Depending on how bad we want something or how much of a hurry we are in – waiting stinks. The line at the supermarket…New York traffic…waiting for Christmas morning…everyone’s list is different, but no one likes to wait. I was scheduled for bloodwork this morning for an upcoming doctor’s appointment. Given my disdain for needles and well, the wait, I left 30 minutes before the lab opened. I had zero coffee in me having observed the strict eight hours fast prior to the test. I ran from my car into the building expecting to hurdle over any senior citizen I found in my path on the way to the lab. I took the stairs two at a time rather than facing a wait at the elevator. Much to my surprise I rounded the corner and found myself FIRST. Victory was mine. The lab techs arrived and reminded me that the lab opened at 7:30 a.m. and it was first come-first served. I relaxed and messaged my friends until the next patient arrived. 

A gentleman greeted me and asked if he was next. His eyes were warm, and he seemed very friendly. As most people know everyone looks familiar to me. I am forever saying “Isn’t that so and so?” I drive people nuts with this. Sorry people. The gentleman sat down and opened his New York Times. I turned to him and said softly “Pardon me…are you Dr. Weiss?” he looked at me over his glasses and said, “Who wants to know?”. I explained that I had been a patient of his for 14 years and he delivered my children. He stood up and said “My dear Karen. How have you been?” The tears flowed, and I instinctively hugged him. 

I had met Dr. Weiss in 1987 as a new patient who was newly engaged. He was a funny man who always took my fear of doctors to heart and made me feel at ease. We talked about many world topics during each visit and he explained whatever was happening with my body as if I was his daughter. He was caring and made me feel like I was his only patient. A year after I was married I explained that we would like to start planning a family. We discussed many different scenarios and were cleared to start planning pregnancy. Months turned into a year with no success. All of our friends were also getting married and starting their same journey. 

Another year went on and it was obvious that nothing was happening in the baby arena. Blood tests were performed. Gynocological exams and procedures were introduced. All tests were negative. There was really no reason as to why we couldn’t conceive. Medications were prescribed, and things started to get tight. My moods dipped as one friend got pregnant…then another…it was starting to wear on me. Dr. Weiss was very reassuring and full of positivity. My dear Karen he would say…God will make you a mommy when the time is right. After another few months I was referred to Dr. Weiss’ best friend, Dr. Avner Herschlag who coincidentally had a very famous daughter named Natalie Portman. We went through two rounds of treatment with Dr. Herschlag. One evening I ended up in the ER with a terrible stomach bug that just would not go away. Well it wouldn’t go away because it wasn’t a virus but a baby. Our dream had finally come true. Dr. Weiss called me at 11 pm that night at home. He was crying and full of congratulations. The next few weeks were wonderful filled with blood tests and sonograms. The baby would be here in December. 

After losing the baby a few months later we returned to Dr. Weiss. My head was in my hands and I sobbed hot tears for what seemed like an eternity. He held my hand said “My dear Karen. I want you to go home. We need to take some time off here”. That we did. We took a trip to the Bahamas that next month to clear our heads. More friends were pregnant. More getting married. It was consuming me. 

A month after our trip we decided to try adoption. We had a phone installed in our guest bedroom for “the call”. We advertised in papers around the country. There was no internet then. It was all me canvassing the library and magazines looking for leads. Finally, we received a call. A mother from Arizona was due to give birth in April. We found a well-known lawyer on Long Island who was confident about the birth mother and said that the “transaction” should run smoothly. All was going well until that phone rang again and the mother coolly told me she had chosen another couple. Turns out in the end that the other couple offered a better “cash” option up front according to our attorney. 

After another year I returned to Dr. Weiss who was thrilled to see me. He knew of a colleague who specialized in IVF and could help us based on my test results. We took the plunge and visited Dr. Richard Bronson. The rest is history as most of you know. Jake was our first “fresh” cycle and Jules our “frozen” cycle. Dr. Weiss held Jake for the first time after birth and said, “Young man – no child will ever be loved more”. Such truth. Months later I heard Dr. Weiss had retired but he literally slipped away from the practice with no explanation. Years later I had heard that the malpractice fees were astronomical, and he decided to retire. 

The door opened, and the lab technician called Dr. Weiss and I in together. He said “My dear Karen I am humbled to have talked with you today. Wishing you love on the rest of your journey.” We hugged again. I may never see him again, but my life today was made complete for I was able to say thank you to a man who made me a mom. The universe placed this angel in front of me today. This was a wait I will never forget. 

 

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Coincidence? I Think Not.

Synchronicity takes center stage in my life more often than not lately. Perhaps it always has and I just didn’t pay attention. Yesterday I believe god tapped me on the shoulder and said “watch this” as yesterday’s events unfolded. The universe was about to deliver another amazing show.

Her name was Marsha and she was my sisters oldest and best friend. She was bubbly. She had a laugh that would knock you over. She was witty. Marsha loved her friends and family fiercely in this girl’s opinion. Her two little girls are cute as buttons and her husband is someone who walked into her life and just clicked from the start.

Yesterday we all met to say goodbye to our friend who received staggering news some mere weeks before. Marsha was diagnosed with a rare heart cancer that whisked her off of our stage in Act One.

I left work to attend shiva at Marshy’s home with a quick stop at my fave bakery to pick up a few items for the family. In addition to my selection I decided to buy these gorgeous painted cookie creations that this bakery is known for. I thought Marsha’s princesses should have a treat. Shiva usually doesn’t offer choices for the kids and I wanted them to maybe smile a teensy bit. The bakery gal was lovely and commended me on my cookie choice of unicorns and butterflies. After paying I told the navigation fairies where I wanted to go and off I went.

Driving to Marshy’s I thought about my sister who lost her friend and how she must be feeling. I love my friends with such passion that I cannot imagine losing one of them. My thoughts went to Marsha’s parents and how they will remember what a gorgeous soul they raised. The next thoughts were of Mitchell who just lost his only baby sister in the blink of an eye. Our families were connected with my sister and Marsha and coincidentally Mitch and I having dated in and after college. I was now a block away from the house and I was anxious to see everyone. The navigation fairies slapped me again and dumped me at the wrong house. As you know I can get lost in a paper bag.

It struck me as I entered the house that there were still no tears from me since I received the news on Saturday. The door opened and I was enveloped by Marsha. I felt it. A picture of my friend was right in front of me. She was smiling the way she did – a giant beam with her eyes. I always told her that her smiles came from her eyes. She had an awesome face that drew you in every time. I hugged some very fabulous people on the way to the yard and was watching everyone chat about our girl that was taken way too soon. Marsha’s cousin took my cookies to the girls after I explained that I hope they liked the designs.

I was sitting at the table with my sister and her friends. We were joined by Mitchell who was explaining how he created his eulogy. We were all engaged and laughing. Mitch has a larger than life sense of humor and pulls you in from the first hello. As he’s talking I notice a large butterfly who is literally flying in what seemed like a figure 8 around many of those at the table. Usually butterflies flit briefly and leave. Not this one. If lingered throughout our entire conversation. I thought..that butterfly is Marsha. The cookies. Butterflies. At that very moment I glanced right. On the lawn in the girls play area was…wait for it…a giant inflatable unicorn. I turned white and choked back the tears. Synchronicity. The rest of my visit was fabulous. Brief in nature but reconnecting with old friends and listening to stories of Marsha that warmed my soul.

It was time to resume my routine and drive home. I could see the unicorn as I left the house. I got in the car and sobbed. I finally cried. I was given the gifts of Marsha and Mitchell and all of these beautiful people connected to them. The universe stepped in and gave me unicorns and butterflies to remind me that there are no coincidences. We are all connected for a reason.

Today I’m asking that you hug the ones you love with every ounce of strength you have during Act One and pay attention to the signs that were placed on your stage. Coincidences? I think not.

Featured

Taking Chances

Finally, she mused 
that human existence 
is as brief as the life of autumn grass, 

So what was there to fear 
from taking chances with your life?

Mo Yan, Red Sorghum

I do my best thinking while blow drying my hair each day. Some people take long drives to contemplate a situation. Some meditate. Some spend hours in a therapist’s office hoping to find clarity. I however ponder life, weigh out my life scenarios, and even make my most important decisions while using a ridiculously large round brush and an 1800-watt hair dryer. 

Often I find myself overthinking a situation (I know this may shock some loyal Kiki followers – insert your snarky laugh here) and weighing in with 8,789 reasons why I should or should not do something. These last few years though I have shed these doubts and bouts with overthinking simply because I realize that life is short. Just do it as the Nike ad suggests. There are a million sayings that can fit this notion of “It’s Now or Never” – hell even Elvis sang about it and made millions with this approach. How did I get here though? 

Years of vulnerability and wanting to feel safe kept me in a very stable bubble. If I kept status quo and average, I would never rock the boat and life would be good. There would be no anxiety. No worry. No reason to get upset because everything was just the way it was supposed to be. 

Or was it? 

Certainly, my fitness journey gave me the confidence I lacked or shoved below sea level for years. I finally surfaced and declared…yes declared that I would no longer accept average in my life. I started to take chances that I never thought possible. Always outgoing I became fearless at work, became a master problem solver with a take no prisoners type attitude, and did not stop until I figured out any problem placed before me. At home, I was now handling situations with the kids with zero worry. Looking forward and not back was much more fulfilling than wallowing in the past and letting my feet remain stuck in the mud. 

Are there days when I am stuck in the war of the “what ifs”? You bet. I was just discussing this the other night and admitted that I sometimes allow the what ifs to rule me. I was reminded that practicing “mindfulness” and dealing with the right here and now would be the key. I am now soaking up as much of this practice as I can. Kiki promise to blog about this in the hopefully near future. Now back to my point about taking chances. 

The fitness thing led to Spartan which led to well…the key to everything I had been looking for even when I did not know I was looking. Every damn thing on that course from the rocks, the mud (that goddamn thigh high mud), obstacles, elevation, the comradery, random conversations, and finally – jumping fire represents life. Each race I have run has taught me more about me than any amount of therapy ever could. There was one race though that stands out as my signature race. I think about it every damn day (and not just when I am drying my hair). Tuxedo 2018. My third time on that mountain. I ran alone. Well, I was not alone – in Spartan, you are never alone. You are with thousands of fellow racers all there with the same purpose. Nevertheless, this day, I ran happy and was so at peace. I emerged from each part of the trail truly renewed. I came up with new mental strategies to prepare myself for the next leg. I was smiling more than I ever did in a race. I was so alive. There are other races when I can feel myself approaching the finish line. You can hear the music from the festival area pumping. You can feel the energy from the crowds and the surge of adrenaline from the last obstacles. But mostly for me…you can smell the fire. I can feel it in my bones. It NEVER signifies the finish for me. It is a symbol of taking chances and a leap of faith. There are some races when I am only physically able to hop over the line of fire. Not this time. I turned the corner to find the final rig obstacle. I nailed it (yay me) and looked ahead at the line of flames and the finish line beyond them. Yes, I could have hopped over as before and race towards the medal. I could have accepted this because it is what I normally did. But no. I train every night (yes every night) to no longer accept average. As my friend, Scott tells me “You must train with the single purpose to reach that finish line”. And so I sprinted. I sprinted as if I was running to catch the last plane off the burning planet. That is when it happened. I lept. Sailed over those flames. I landed with my hands in the air and tears streaming down my cheeks. The medal was soon around my neck and I was at peace. Really…what was to fear from taking chances? 

I will no longer be rooted and stuck in fear of taking chances and stepping outside of my comfort zone. I realize that it will be tough. I will still have days peppered with anxiety but I look back and realize it is a far worse life if I never take these chances. As Mo Yan says…our human existence is as brief as the autumn grass. 

Let go. Leap. Take chances. 

Live. 

 

Wounded Warriors 2019

The saying “freedom is not free” has always stuck with me in terms that our nation was founded and built by brave men and women who believed in our country so much that they fought to the death to honor our nation. My love for what our military has done for this country is a feeling I hold close to my heart. I am beyond grateful for what millions of courageous people have given me. Yesterday I had the chance to ride with some selfless souls who defend our freedom every day. I have never shared any of my political views nor will I today. I need however to express how moved I was to be an American yesterday and every single day.

Each year there is a Wounded Warrior Soldier Ride here on Long Island. It is held on our gorgeous south shore. Beaches, boats, beautiful homes built into the dunes, and communities of people who showed up to support our wounded warriors who selflessly defend us here and abroad.

The event is a 25 mile bike ride that included some 75 or so wounded warriors and maybe 1250 riders. The streets and highways are closed down for this event. I am no stranger to riding 20-22 miles to the beach so I thought this is a nice way to be involved and say thank you to a group of folks who provide me and my family with every day freedoms which I feel I often take for granted.

I still lack bike confidence so starting out the ride amongst 1250 people was I won’t lie a bit shaky. Some may say comical but the word I’ll use this morning is shaky. We will leave it at that. Once I found my groove and bike moxie I unclenched my jaw and looked around me. We were sailing through Smalltown USA. People were lining the streets cheering. Every mile a fire department had an arch over the roadway with a ginormous American flag and at times water misting on us (did I mention it was 96 degrees?). Bagpipes played. Drums kept cadence. We pedaled on.

During one part of the ride I rode with Patrick who decided he would roller skate the entire event. We chatted. He had served briefly and was injured on his last tour in Afghanistan. His cousin was killed years ago in Iraq. He always rides..or skates in his memory. I choked back tears as I chatted with Patrick and his little crew he had with him.

At the halfway point of the race we rode into a small town that took my breath away. The “Rocky” theme played as we entered town. A woman was holding a flag yelling USA!! I joined her. It felt wonderful!! I was so energized. I passed a gentleman in his Vietnam hat with pins. He had his hand on his heart. I shouted “thank you for everything”. He blew me a kiss and said thank you my dear. More tears. Around the next corner I rode by a whole group of preschoolers outside of their school. All were dressed in red, white, and blue. They were holding flags and singing God Bless America. I nearly fell off my bike. I was moved beyond words.

The last leg of the ride was brutally hot and dry. I lapsed into thought. Our military endures conditions a million times worse every day. I simply cannot imagine what they go through. My mind shifted back to the supporters who were lining the streets. We are all American. No matter what you see on tv these days or what is happening in DC, we are all one. The level of patriotism I experienced yesterday was a gift. I think it’s always been there. Maybe now it’s not as strong as it used to be but it is still there. My goodness it felt good.

The ride wrapped and we welcomed our warriors into the venue with cheers and applause. I wasn’t able to physically say thank you to the group but my thanks is in my heart and how I support what they have done every single day. Freedom is not free but it is alive and kicking in all we do whether we realize it or not.

Happy Tears

I hit the OnStar button and asked for directions home. The directions were delivered to my navigation screen. I gathered my thoughts, checked my mirrors, and eased into the neighborhood traffic. Anyone who knows me knows I absolutely PANIC without knowing where I am going. I shake and sweat when I’m driving and lost.  I took a deep breath and muttered to myself “This was possibly the best party I have ever attended.” That is when the tears started. Then the sobs. Then the hot feeling you get in the back of your throat when you are crying the biggest tears ever. I think I cried for 2.3 miles according to my navigation screen. I looked in the rear view mirror to see myself smiling back. They were happy tears. Tears of joy? I smiled even more at my face in the mirror because I was so happy. The guy next to me at the light probably thought I was some narcissistic loon but screw him – yes, I was happy.

It was nearly 5 p.m. on a Sunday and I was on my way home from a Celebration of Life party for a lifelong friend who we just found out may not be with us much longer. We had a birthday party for her and sang. We ate yummy comfort food and ate all of the cake (which you know for me is out of my food prepping comfort zone). We laughed and took selfies with her and cried when she thanked everyone for coming and asked us to keep her memory alive for her girls forever. It was a sobering afternoon. In typical Kiki fashion, I started to blog in my head. I had to sort it all out. Putting words on the screen is what I do to snap the puzzle pieces in my head back together. What a way to push through emotions and save a $25 co-pay to a therapist that claims they know you but in reality has no clue as to who you really are.

Half way home, my mind is swirling. I am thinking time is not promised. It’s just not. There are no guarantees. The only guarantee is that there is no guarantee.  Then the overthinking and my famous “What if?” scenarios start. What if I don’t get to where I want to be goal wise? What if something happens to me and I haven’t set up Jake’s future plans yet? What if I don’t tell Julia I love her enough? What if I don’t get to develop that show I wanted to write? My mind was in overdrive. I have a friend who taught me to breathe and think. Really think. Three deep breaths in. It was working. I was not going to jump on the victim train and be transported to the land of despair where people throw their hands up and say “I suck. Whoa is me.” No. Instead, I thought of talking to my friend Scott. He had said that morning “Be a warrior.”. The clouds cleared (literally cleared – it had been raining for days). New thoughts were piped in. I took control and thought, we have to make do with what we have right here. Right now.

By 7:30 I was on the couch texting my gym group and waiting for “American Idol” to come on. Decompressing to a guilty pleasure. I looked around the room. Pictures of the kids. Medals. Awards. Pillows. Blankets. My gym headbands. A blown up picture of me jumping fire at my first solo race. I saw my life – the one I created on my own. I am quite sure I am not living the life my parents wanted me to live or expected me to live. I used to struggle with that notion but in the past four years, I have come to realize that I just don’t care. Now understand there is the old me who just followed the path living that life that I believed – past tense – believed I should be living based on what others thought I should be doing. Those days are over. Over.  If people cannot handle it well then that is their business and prerogative.

Sunday was a little wakeup call and hip check sent to remind me that life truly is good. I have to embrace those around me and remember that they are all placed here with purpose to help me live my best life. I think the minute I lose sight of this I will be lost. So I will continue to look in the rearview mirror and smile. Happy tears are welcomed as I follow the navigation on my screen. I will get to where I want to be if I continue to be honest with myself and strong. This courage will allow me to be as my fave author Nora Ephron says “the heroine in my own life, not the victim”. Only then will I have “reached my destination.”

Every.Damn.Day.

We dropped to the ground for push-ups I said to Shari, “Do you remember wearing that shirt for the first time?” Shari smiled and said, “To this day that day will always be one of my best accomplishments”. We were both beaming and I said “You did it!”. Shari wore her Be1st tank to her first Spartan race in June 2016. As we moved to the next Boot Camp station I was overwhelmed with emotion thinking about Shari and a few others in the gym that day that bring me to tears. Right before we picked up the Battle Ropes I hugged Shari and said “I am so happy to know you girl.” We chatted a little bit more as we slammed those damn ropes and Shari said, “I love what you do. The writing. The workouts.” I simply replied “We do what we have to do….every damn day.” 

It hit me. 

Every.Damn.Day. I get up every single day and wonder what will come my way and I smile. Really, smile. There were days a little under five years ago when my feet would hit the floor and simultaneously I would say “Ugh”. I would slither through the morning routine and out the door to work with a scowl on my face. I was not miserable. I think I was just going through the motions and waiting to climb back into bed and arise for the next morning’s ugh. 

By now, you have been following me and know that so much of me has changed since 2014. The ripple effect of my transformations have turned into a tidal wave in some arenas which have caused an upheaval of sorts. Life changes are coming that I just know will bring a slew of opportunities. Instead of trudging out of bed, I fly to the Keurig (which is now known as “Nancy” since Siri recently changed my Keurig to Kerrigan. See? Little silly things like this make me giggle and look at things differently) and create caffeine gold which perks me up in no time. I come alive in the few hours before I leave for work. I can truly say that I hit the ground running each day. 

There are days when I complain and complain LOUDLY. The traffic is bad. Long Island is turning. No one knows how to drive. I am hungry. I need more coffee. Why does my foot hurt? Damn it, my foot really does hurt. Then I remember….just breathe. Let us take it all in. Think of how lucky you really are. You live on Long Island – still a great place. You are driving to work – be happy you have a career you love. You have food to eat and there is a Starbucks on every corner. I even remind myself that I have feet – some do not. Shut up and breathe Kiki. Let’s tackle this day and slay it. 

Work is forever busy. They say a busy mind will never allow you to truly grow old. If that is the case, I may be walking this earth until I am 127. Not likely but the Kiki math makes it fun to think about. I come home each day to unwind and then change for the gym. It is a nightly ritual. I leave the house and set up my playlist for the 20-minute drive to Westbury. I sing at the top of my lungs. Lately I have been belting out tunes from the Mean Girls Broadway soundtrack. I am getting better actually. I may consider auditioning. You never know. They may need an understudy someday and I’m just the girl for the job. But I digress. 

I pull into the gym and I’m flanked by my circle. We are all part of this crazy world. We have each other. We have made each other strong. We are all raising kids. Survived 9/11. Losing a spouse and trying to raise a family without losing a step. Running marathons. Raising a child with a disability. We are all different yet we are the same. We all have goals, needs, wants, and dreams. My girls and I text about anything from typos in the supermarket to sex to what we would do with the gazillions of Powerball dollars we are going to win one day. I cannot make it through life without my crew. I am humbled by them and their experiences and hardships. I am reminded that we all have struggles but we just keep going. If you stop…you are idle and you will be pushed to the side of the road waiting for repairs. So let’s just keep going. Let’s welcome the world and everything it brings the minute our feet hit the ground. Every. Damn. Day. 

 

 

“OMG..it’s Karen!’”

As Parents Weekend at Julia’s school comes to a slow crawl (currently stuck in an hour long traffic jam) I’m drifting back to yesterdays events. Spending the day with Jules on my old stomping grounds was a gift. Another moment though stole my heart yesterday and hurled me back some 17 years ago. Let me explain.

While sitting in the lounge enjoying my Starbucks I heard “omg it’s you Karen..Hiiiii Karen”. I turned to find our Reed running towards me and hugging me. Oh wow. It was Reed – Jakes first friend ever. Reed is a College of Saint Rose student too. Right behind him arms outstretched is his mom…my Brenda.

Jake and Reed met in preschool September 2001. Both had recently been diagnosed with Autism. Two weeks after they started school I found myself sitting in a parent support group in the schools gym. I sat there with a cold cup of coffee with bags under my eyes hoping no one could see that I’d been crying every day for a month. I was silent only responding if directly asked a question.

Across from me sat this vision of a mom. Perfect hair, makeup that was air brushed, pearls, loafers, and a killer look from Banana Republic. I didn’t know if I should hate her or ask if she wanted to go shopping. She told us her name was Brenda and that she was an attorney. I thought oh my God this one is so good at this. She’s handling this like a champ. I’m sitting here weeping like child and she’s so snappy. Look at her. We made eye contact and I smiled. That was it. Brenda drew me in.

We met every week at our group and never stopped talking. Conversations turned into every day phone calls, play dates with the kids, double dates with the guys, family parties, and endless school events.

I learned that Brenda has many of the same struggles I had with the kids but just had a different outlook on things. Together we used our different strategies to help each other get through the day to day. Brenda has a knack for looking to the future with the most realistic and positive outlook I will never forget. I was worried about making it through dinner that night and Brenda was researching drivers licenses for the boys.

Years went by and the boys matured in ways we hoped for but just couldn’t imagine. Life stepped in. It got busy. We’d go for months without talking but we never ever lost sight of each other. One day we received the most beautiful invitation in the mail to Reeds Bar Mitzvah. I dropped the invite on the table and burst into tears. Reed was making his Bar Mitzvah. My God.

Months later I walked into Temple and saw looked up to see Brenda in front of me looking gorgeous as ever. We didn’t say anything. We just stared at each other. The tears came quickly for both of us and we held each other for a long time. I just looked at her and said “We made it my friend”. I then looked at Reed and thought..life really is good. This boy who we loved for so many years was now a man. Reed aced his ceremony. The next day we enjoyed Reeds celebration without a care in the world. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house that day despite us dancing the day away!

Flash forward to yesterday when we giggled and reminisced over the coffee listening to Reed and Jake now 20 years old talk to each other like long lost pals. I turned to Brenda and said I love you. What I really wanted to say was thank you. Thank you for holding my hand and pulling me through those early years that I thought I’d never get through. I hope she knows that I’ve got her back until we leave this earth.

I’m a firm believer that people are placed on your path for specific reasons. They are meant to be here with you on your journey. I don’t wish Autism on anyone but I do wish you a Brenda. Your life will be changed forever. Mine was.

Thank you my friend.

Hey Jules..

Hey Jules,

Zoom in on the Madre sitting cross legged in your room armed with a trash bag. I’m trying to make a path to your closet so that I can start the big purge of clothing that hasn’t graced your back since you were a Freshman in Bethpage.

It’s been ten days since we dropped you off at Saint Rose. I’ve actually been pretty good with tears. That is until today. I’m Still in my gym clothes from Boot Camp trying to muscle through this room and the memories you have been growing in here since you care home from the hospital.

A conversation I had with your Uncle Mike (and Aunt Di) just came to mind. He talked about it being his greatest accomplishment to raise his kids to be good people – really awesome humans who when ready could head out into this world and fly. I’ll never ever forget that intense conversation with Uncle Mike. It left a mark on me and now here I am watching your new life begin. It’s happening right before my very eyes.

I’m making progress… I stacked your Harry Potter books in the bookcase remembering how you devoured these books one by one. I would find you up late just reading. I never scolded you for that – you always did have our love for reading. Never lose that! Reading as you know can bring you to incredible places…

I just found a box that you decorated with “Beautiful – the Carole King Musical” signs. We told you you could see the show if you save your money. You always have done everything with a dramatic flair! Well you got there not once but you’ve seen the show three times. You don’t know that we put that money back in your box after you bought your first set of tickets.

This room is still loaded with Hamilton memories. Remember our Hamilton craze? All those days leading up to April 26, 2016 when we witnessed magic! That show with you was nothing short of wizardry. You know how I feel about Lin’s views but that man is a lyrical genius. Thank you for introducing me to music that I still belt out every single day on the way to Starbucks after a stressful day at work.

Your jazz/show shoes just peeked out from under your dresser. My goodness they put in some stage miles haven’t they? How I’ll miss watching you in the BHS Masquers Guild productions. The afternoons of picking you up from rehearsals and listening to your rants about the producers, cast shenanigans, and the fun you were having. I would watch the energy surround you as you spoke. It was absolutely electrifying. All of those talks would stay with me as you took the stage every night during show week. I couldn’t have written a better script for you.

All of your handwritten scripts are in the trundle under your bed. Your creations are legendary. You caught the theater writing bug early. Wasn’t it after I gave you the Grimmary– the backstage creation story of Wicked? I’m convinced you can write a story or musical about anything! Please don’t stop writing Jules! You have a gift for others to open with your stories.

You have certainly filled this room with memories. I’m proud to have been a part of so many of them – if only as a guide at times. I’m sure your dorm room is starting to collect new memories and experiences. You are in an amazing school and community of people who will change your life forever.

I’ve reached the closet. Time to see what waits for me on the other side of the store. If it’s anything like what I’ve just been through this past hour well then I never want to leave. Your world is exciting to me – so happy to be a part of you and all that lies ahead.

Love you,

Momsy