Tag Archives: Moving Forward

A Special Kind of Love

6 Nov

I promised myself I’d write about you eventually. I knew I would need to give myself a certain closure, while also leaving plenty of space for you in my heart, a space you will occupy for the rest of my life.

You carried me through my childhood. You saw the way people treated me, and you acted as a buffer between me and the rest of the world. When we were kids, I needed that buffer. I needed a safe space to go where I didn’t have to be face to face with my situation, while also not having to completely face the blows of reality either. You provided me with that space. Your presence in my life when we were kids was like a bubble I never wanted to leave because it was the one place I felt cared for, the one place I felt safe. Now, I’m no longer inside that bubble, but I find comfort in knowing it’s always a place I can still go if I am in need of reassurance.

Your presence in my life brings me to tears, both tears of joy and tears of sadness. I wonder how I ever got so lucky to have a friend as rare as you in my life. Someone who has known me since we were kids. Someone who knows everything I went through, and loves me just the same, if not more. Someone who has acted as my protector for as long as I can remember. Someone who took me to my first dance, who took me to my prom, and who would drop everything to be there for me. That kind of friendship is so incredibly rare, and the wonderful thing is how safe and cared for I feel, even when I’m just thinking of you. Therefore, my deep love for you makes sense. It brings me to tears because I know my love for you is not the same kind of love you have for me. It breaks my heart, but it doesn’t take away how I have always seen you. Truthfully, my feelings for you make sense. They truly do. I don’t know of anyone who could be cherished the way you cherish me and not develop deeper feelings.

Your belief in all that I am propels me forward. It gives me the strength to keep going when I feel like giving up, and it shows me there are people in this world that would do anything just to see me happy. Though I know that has been true for a long time, it took numerous deep conversations with you until I started to see it with my own eyes. You’ve allowed me to feel a kind of love I thought I’d never find. Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened between us if I would have recognized the love sooner. However, I don’t want to spend my life backpedaling. From this point on, I want to go forward. Forward towards a kind of love I will find one day. A kind of love I now know exists because you have shown me that even though certain forms of love are rare, they do exist.

Yes, I love you. I love you with all that I am, and I truly believe I always will. That’s the thing about first loves, right? They stay with you forever. Though you have not been my first love in the traditional relationship sense of the world, I think 15 years of friendship is a very special, though unique kind of relationship. And it’s been a special kind of love. The kind of love that has allowed me to grow and has given me support all at the same time. The kind of love that has provided me with a true sense of feeling safe, a sense of knowing I matter. The kind of love that is so rare, and yet so beautiful in all that it means.

Yet, because your presence in my life has brought me love, I am hopeful. I am hopeful that one day I will find the kind of love I wish you could show me now. Because in so many ways, you’ve done the best thing for us. Our friendship is too precious to take the risk of a relationship. You told me you vowed to never put yourself in a position where you might leave (since you had seen so many “friends” leave me, and knew how much it hurt me when they did). In its own way, that shows just how much your cherish me, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

I love you, and I always will. Your presence in my life has lifted me up while also breaking me down. Though that may sound sad, it’s good. You’ve helped me to experience an emotion I never thought I’d understand. Granted, though I am no closer to understanding it, I finally know the feeling of loving someone so much that it seems as if your heart might burst from happiness. And now, in this moment, I know what it means to love you, while also allowing other people in. For a while, I was afraid giving myself the opportunity to move on would mean I had to let you go, but that’s not what it means at all. It means loving you, keeping you in my heart, but making space in my heart for new possibilities. It means it’s possible to hold all kinds of love in your heart at once, and knowing there is always room for more.


Photo Friday: Bursts of change.

19 Oct

I just love fall in the mountains!

The autumn leaves blew over the moonlit pavement in such a way as to make the girl who was moving there seem fixed to a sliding walk, letting the motion of the wind and the leaves carry her forward.-Ray Bradbury

Photo Friday: Adversity.

15 Jun

“What you have lost will not be returned to you; it will always be lost. You’re left with only your scars to mark the void. All you can choose to do is go on, or not. But if you go on, it’s knowing you carry your scars with you.” – Charles Frazier

Tuesday’s Tunes: A Closer Look At The Art Of Missing.

29 May


Yesterday I listened to this song on repeat for over an hour, letting the lyrics sink in and waiting for the painful memories that I knew would surface in time. That’s the special thing about music. Each song is unique in its power to allow all kinds of memories to rise up, ranging from childhood moments to moments that only lasted a split second in the scheme of your life, yet moments that seemed to have a stronger hold on you than you seem to have on the current life that you’re living.

While listening to this song, I thought of the art of missing. It’s been an idea that has rolled around in my head for the past few days. However, I’ve been unsure as to how to bring life to it through my words. However, putting off writing just because we are stuck is not what true writers do. We move forward, muddling through the words that we know we yearn to say, waiting for the moment when they decide to allow themselves to be seen by someone other than ourselves. Anyway, the art of missing has been on my mind lately. Isn’t it a bit of a funny concept? It’s almost like a hunger for something that can only be satisfied by some kind of contact. Often times, I find myself missing people who I’ve just talked to or just seen. I think that’s probably because I
have had a habit of getting attached to people and then I have always hated any kind of goodbye. Whether it’s goodbye for a few days or a few months or even a year, it’s never any easier. However, by some miraculous twist of fate, we move forward. We place one foot in front of the other, knowing that walking ahead is our only option.

I believe that one of the most heartbreaking aspects of the art of missing is when you miss someone who may not be missing you in return. Not because they have told you that they don’t miss you, but because you no longer have the kind of relationship where it would be okay to ask that kind of question. In that instance, I’m missing someone who I used to know. Though that person is still around, they are not the same person that is etched into my childhood memories so precisely. Maybe, deep down, that person is still there. The person that I put so much trust in and looked up to for so long. The person who taught me to believe in myself and reminded me to never stop smiling. But truthfully, I probably will never know if that person from my memories still exists. That’s the tricky thing about time and the art of missing. Even though people say that distance makes the heart grow fonder, is time factored into that equation? To me, it seems like time is often the polar opposite of distance, causing the heart to ever so slowly forget the faces in one’s mind that were etched there so many years ago.

Through some recent introspection, I’ve realized that missing someone is like a hunger, but in another sense, it’s also like a sickness. A sickness that fills you internally, causing you to stop and wonder if there was ever a time that was spent not missing someone. Even though the art of missing does reflect the strong amount of love that people are able to show to one another, it’s almost as if the love is just never quite enough. The love is present, it has taken your hand. However, instead of simply having it take your hand, you want it to surround you, fill you up…and not leave you standing at a window looking out into a world that you are part of and yet isolated from. Even though missing someone shows that you care about someone and that you love them, it can also pull you under its current, leaving you to wave your hands frantically, waiting for someone to realize that you are, in fact, struggling to simply stay above water.

Learning From The Memories.

15 Feb

A few days ago, my parents told me that they’ve put our South Carolina house on the market. Though I’m looking forward to having my parents closer to me, another part of me knows that it may take a while to call our mountain house “home.” Though I’d pick living in Saluda over St. Matthews any day, I grew up in St. Matthews. It was my home for a long time.

No matter how many times I say that I’m happy that I won’t need to go back to St. Matthews once my parents are in Saluda, there are so many memories that St. Matthews holds that no amount of time in another place will be able to replace. Playing t-ball at the baseball field on the end of our street, finding a family through getting involved in theater with the Calhoun Players, riding my various go-karts around the block again and again, driving up and down the street in my Barbie Jeep, learning to drive my first car, the ice storm that lead to my dad and I going to get pizza from the Pantry. All my great birthday parties growing up, getting to be a “flyer” on the cheerleading team when I was really little, catching frogs in the “pond” behind the Piggly Wiggly after a big rain, the Purple Martin Festival, discovering my love of writing, spending the Saturdays of summer at the small county library, making mud pies in the backyard, running through the wildflowers in the back lot, cracking pecans, swinging in the old tire swing in the back lot, my dad rocking me in his mom’s rocking chair on the nights when I couldn’t sleep, sitting out on the screen porch listening to a summer thunderstorm, making brownies in the kitchen with mom and always wanting to lick the bowl. I could go on forever…

It’s times like these, when the memories run through my head like a slide show, that I get nostalgic. It used to amaze me that a certain place could hold so much emotion, but now I understand. There are 16 years of memories there, and they’re not going anywhere. Though I’ll take them with me wherever I go in my life, they belong there….in the small town that I always wanted to get away from and did get away from when I was 16. I don’t doubt that when I visit in the future, the memories will come back once I take that 136 exit off of I-26 to the place that I called home for so long. I’ll drive down my street, and it’ll feel weird….it’ll feel weird that time hasn’t stopped…it’ll feel weird knowing that someone else is living in our house…using my bedroom..playing in my back yard…and making memories in a place that held all the cherished moments of my own childhood.

At the same time, I’ve always had a strong connection with the mountains, and so I understand why my parents would also want to call the mountains home. As a family, we used to always make trips up to Saluda to get away, so I have a feeling it’ll take some time to not imagine taking a “trip” to Saluda. However, I’ve called the mountains (Asheville, in my case) home since August, and it’s been amazing. I’ve loved every second of it, and being among such beautiful landscapes has helped me gain perspective, while also giving me the opportunity of discovering myself some more. It’s a strange feeling….knowing that every day I’m coming closer to fully discovering who I’m supposed to be in this world. It’s exciting and scary, but the only way is forward. So, to all the memories that have taken up a permanent residence in my heart: Thanks for teaching me about life, what it means to love, the importance of friends and family. But most of all, thanks for providing me with courage, insane amounts of love to give to those around me, laughter, and hope. And showing me the importance of branching out, chasing my dreams, and ultimately, following my heart to the true place that it belongs.