Turkey Day.

Last year on Thanksgiving, I was in the worst mood ever. Essentially threw the adult equivalent of a temper tantrum at the fam (sorry Roesings). Linds was stuck in the hospital again and I don't think I felt all that thankful at all for much. Not really much of a runner at the time, I distinctly remember sprinting away from the family on our routine cliche crescent trail walk just for the meer purpose of avoiding talking to anyone because I just didn't think anyone really understood. Good times.

Then Linds called me. I sat upstairs and we bitched. She bitched about the situation. I bitched about the situation. And we concurred that 23 was still an acceptable age to throw tantrums if we saw fit, and we did. And we laughed a lot. We hatched a plan to merge our families together for future holiday events so that we would have less to bitch about in the future. Or at least we could bitch together in person. I hid upstairs on the phone for as long as I could get away with and then went back downstairs to have dinner with the family somewhat begrudgingly and laughed to myself frequently thinking of Lindsay sitting in the Cleveland hospital probably giving everyone a hard time too.

While this is not a particularly happy story to share, I feel it is an important one because it causes me to remember certain things. I remember how hard things were at times and how much fortitude Lindsay demonstrated in those 2 years. And how whiny the two of us could really be. I will never fully accept that she is gone, but I am able to smile knowing that she is in a happier place. A place with bountiful amounts of turkey and pie. I am able to smile knowing that I am in a better place too. On the trail this morning, I thought of all the people I am thankful for. The friends and family I have been blessed with, living or not, and the incredible impact they have had on my life.

Now if I could just get Billie, John, Brandon, and Brooke to consider DC for Turkey Day... then Linds and I would have nothing left to bitch about.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

rain, rain, don't go away

I've always hated the rain. In fact, I hate "weather." I revel in the absence of "weather;" I only, only, appreciate sun and heat. Give me 105 degrees and a UV index of 9 any day and I'm thrilled. But, today as I trudged through the rain to the subway, crying on the inside that I had THREE MORE BLOCKS to walk, I thought about a conversation that I had a few weekends ago with Emily and Billie. We were in DC for Clare and Molly's marathon, that they ran in memory of Lindsay with LLS Team in Training (and were absolutelyyy amazing and inspirational of course!). The day before the marathon it was, of course, not just raining, but some crazy combination of hail/snow/sleet/impending doom. This prompted a discussion of how it has seemed to rain on nearly every important day of the past few months, ranging from the extremely important planned outdoor parties, to Emily's half marathon. But the first, and most prominent day of the past few months that it's rained, was on Lindsay's funeral. We discussed how the rain on all of these days, days that Lindsay's presence was so strongly felt, must be Lindsay's way of reminding us that she's here with us. I'm not necessarily the most spiritual person, but I definitely believe that Lindsay's here, raining on all of our parties and crawfish boils, reminding us that she's always here in spirit for the important, and most absolutely for the fun times. (Fortunately she was considerate enough to make her presence known the day before Molly and Clare's marathon and allow it to be a perfect sunny fall day for the actual race.)

So Linds, today, although I was forced to trade my leather jacket for a rain coat and my studded booties for rain boots, as I felt my straight hair get soaked and frizzy as the wind blew away both my umbrella and hood, my standard frustration with rain definitely fizzled. I felt like you were here with me, and I definitely didn't hate the rain. I'm not going to say I love the rain now (wouldn't want to get carried away here), but today, feeling like you were here with me, stomping through puddles with your perfectly not-frizzy hair (lest not forget that night in the Shooter's bathroom), was comforting, and provided some much needed happiness and warmth on a particularly dreary day.

Infinite love and kisses to my most flawless of friends, LAR.

xxxx,

Zwill

Keep Your Leaves

Visited Lindsay's tree yesterday--it looks great! I was so surprised to find that it still has all its leaves, while everything else around it has jettisoned theirs. Perfect. Cruel summer becomes endless summer, and Lindsay's tree holds onto its leaves with all it's got.

Remembered to bring a photographic device this time, so here ya go:

I know Lindsay would agree that we all can learn from her tree and remember to hold onto our leaves with gusto!

Love,

Helen

LAR- I made this to wear tomorrow but in true fashion, I didn't get my act together to actually iron it on my jersey. Nonetheless, I will be borrowing your long legs and all- around fierceness. Bulletproof, my giraffe.

Peace & love.

where the wild things are

Two years ago this weekend, I visited Lindsay in Durham. Like any normal, well-adjusted, college graduates, we went to see Where the Wild Things Are, and fell in love with it.

I can show you your kingdom.

This is all yours.

You are the owner of this world.

Will you keep out all the sadness?

I have a sadness shield that keeps out all the sadness, and it's big enough for all of us.

Right Here and Now

I would like to lead you all down the following thought pathway. Ask yourself these questions. How many of us spend the majority of our day with our minds running? From someone or something, or to some place or some when? How many of us get lost in our own heads? How many of us are daily stricken with worry, about the future, about life, about everything?

More importantly, are these thoughts and things we dwell on in our mind -- life? Am I living my life fully if I am lost in my head? And the answer to that is no. When we are lost in our thoughts, in our worries, in our schedules, our mind is not focused or aware of the now moment. The NOW is our life, here, on this planet. The NOW is our consciousness, aware in this physical moment. If we are not in the now moment, we are not living the life that is happening RIGHT NOW.

Lindsay was a master of the now, a master of living in the moment. When we shared our lives with Lindsay, it was if time disappeared, as if it stood still. We were only ever aware of each monumentally individual moment of life, with her. And Lindsay continues to do the same now, and anchors the vibration of love and the now. We're lucky to have shared in her physicality, and lucky she is with us still, in the now.

Each moment of our time here on this Earth is so precious, and remember tomorrow is a promise to no one. Let's learn to consciously focus on living in the now, learn to live in each moment, learn to trust in the universe, and learn how to just be. Love.

Bags

Just Thinking

I'm in class right now with thoughts wandering and as seems to happen ended up thinking about Lindsay. Thought I should post so that others who are thinking about her know they're not alone.