Broken Lives Matter

I was going to wait until Wednesday to write a big, sweeping entry about my thoughts on being a "nearly wed." But this morning it finally occurred to me that if I wait all that time, my thoughts will pile up, and I'll miss out on adding to this blog, which has really been a great experience. This weekend has been unusually busy for me-- but in a good way. Friday I surprised myself with my energy and resourcefulness, preparing for a Halloween party nearby. Starting the day before , I realized that I didn't have a hostess gift. I know the "rules" of party-going have changed, and usually people just show up , and that's more than okay. I was prepared to do that too, of course. But then I waxed nostalgic for just a minute, remembering a time when people treated being invited to some one's house as an honor , and sincerely wanted to thank them for their hospitality. With this in mind, I browsed a nearby store, and after much deliberation I finally s

Last night I made a decision, and this morning I carried it through. Since my poor bank account is dismally low and could use a few "pennies from Heaven"-- literally --I'm taking the Bridal Gallery's generous owner up on her offer--I'm letting her keep the dress and getting my money back. The first time I slipped that dress over my head, I told myself I would feel like a legend if I wore it down the aisle. When I saw myself in it, I knew it was perfect for this wedding. The O'Rourke family are legend; their history goes back before King Arthur:) But the same magic may not be exactly present if I ever plan my wedding again. And this morning, a belated birthday gift from my mom--a tapestry emblazoned with the moon and named after one of my favorite Irish songs, Van Morrison's "Into the Mystic" arrived on my doorstep. The magic is still in my life--in a different form. I had a good cry (they've become something of a morning routine, but

Today has been another happy and sad day. There was a time, talking to Mikel's brother, when I thought "I could burst into tears standing alone in an empty room." It wouldn't have taken  any encouragement. And often I still feel like that. It's only been about two and a half months, after all. I can't believe it myself, but the inches of time that have passed actually amount to something measurable. Something new and interesting has developed. I find myself watching movies like Titanic and My Best Friend's Wedding to make myself cry...nothing else seems to do the trick:( And since sorrow is a chest-weighing, soul-crushing kind of emotion, I want to make myself cry just to get it out of me. I fall apart in the first strains of "Nearer My God to Thee," Heaven knows. And I wonder every single time I hear the Irish woman telling her  children a bedtime story about the land of Tir Na Nog of my Mikel is there...he believed in the Irish mythology

...and the moment is good. Just finally got back from the greatest solo adventure I've probably ever had--cross country to visit relatives I'd never met in person, sustained only by the connection I would have had to them had June 30th never happened....welcomed with open arms! The all-to-short but sweet first visit was marvelous. It's like nothing I've ever experienced up in the Midwest, or as I called it in Oklahoma, "the great white North." Disneyland is right there, and the Pacific Ocean is visible out almost every window. Each day is like a fairy tale--in October you put on your shorts or a sundress that bares your knees and wait for the heat! Back home in the October morning you put on your bathrobe and slippers, and wait for the day to grow dark again:( I came home and everything still smelled the same; my quiet, dark house was waiting patiently for me. Bursting with a million memories and stories, I begin my life which now feels much richer an