Greetings! So here I am on a Sunday night after a holiday
weekend thinking about all the different things I’d like to write about while I
simultaneously think about how I really don’t want to write about anything at
all. I’m tired, I’m stressed, I’m anxious, and I’ve got a billion different
things on my mind making it difficult to focus. I feel like somewhat of a
failure because I was supposed to blog last week and totally blew it off
because I had a hectic week at work. In doing so, I feel like I let my sisters
down. L
I want to write about how our lives are too busy and jam
packed (using my own as a prime example). I want to write about some of the
sexist things I’ve experienced over the last month. I want to write about
finding my voice and speaking up about some of those sexist things. I want to
write about how I’m not losing weight just to fit into my wedding dress. I want
to write about how I think it’s ridiculous that we still work a 5 day work
week. I want to write about all those things and maybe I still will write about
them in a later blog. But right now I cannot. I’ve been running around for the
last couple of months trying to plan a wedding and trying to define myself in a
fairly new position in the military all the while still keeping up with family
and friends, Crossfit, volunteering, etc, etc. To write about the
aforementioned topics would require too much concentration from me right now
and I just don’t have the energy. So instead, I’m going to write about something
fairly easy. I’m going to tell you about my weekend. Of course, I can’t make it
THAT simple and just tell you what happened in a linear fashion. I’m also going
to link it together using the common theme of connecting through
our stories.
I believe weekends start on Thursdays. Maybe this stems back
from the old college days with Thirsty Thursdays and no classes on Friday! Or
maybe it’s because as I mentioned above, I think it’s ridiculous we still work
5 day work weeks. Anyhooo, like all of my weekends, this weekend started on
Thursday night. I went straight from a stressful day at work and drove through
horrendous traffic to get to one of my girlfriend’s house to have dinner with
her. I was scattered when I pulled up to her house with my blood still boiling
as I knocked on her front door. She answered the door with her one-year old in
her arms and two energetic dogs that couldn’t wait to jump on me. Upon entering
her house, she asked how I was and I immediately went into my speal about how
busy I was, how badly traffic sucked, how stressful work was, and how I still
had stuff left to do before the wedding. She simply replied with, “well, it
will all come together,” and then immediately apologized for the basket of
laundry that had been sitting in her living room for over a week, for the piles
of clutter on the dining room table, for the dog that had just eaten the remote
before jumping all over me, and for the potentially botched dinner she had made
for us in the crock pot. And all of a sudden, I magically settled down. It was
as if she had indirectly said to me, “I get it. You are dealing with a lot
right now. ME TOO.” We proceeded to have dinner on a cluttered kitchen table
with a somewhat fussy (albeit ADORABLE) one-year old and two bouncing dogs
rambunctiously waiting for us to drop a morsel of food on the ground for them.
Someone looking in the window at us might think it was a messy scene but in
that moment, I was at peace. My work stress, wedding planning anxiety, and
traffic struggles seemed to wither away as I CONNECTED with
another human being who was inadvertently telling me her story and
saying, “ME TOO.”
As a side note, I TOTALLY understand that the “stressors”
(wedding planning, work, traffic, etc) I have in my life are absolutely
first-world problems. I am extremely fortunate and blessed to be planning a
destination wedding with the most amazing future husband in the US Virgin
Islands where I will be surrounded by over 70 loving family and friends. I have
a job that I absolutely love and have the honor of wearing the US Army uniform
every single day. As for traffic, I am fortunate to have a decent car in which
to commute and regardless of how bad the traffic is every night, I still come
home to a safe, warm house filled with food, hot water, and most importantly
love. As my best friend Naomi consistently has to remind me, my “stressors” ARE
ALL GOOD THINGS! Speaking of my best friend Naomi….
On Friday night I celebrated Passover with her and her
family. I have done this every year for the past 5 years or so and I love it
even though I was raised Catholic. There were 14 people in attendance as well
as no less than 4 dogs. Even though Naomi had rented out the community room in
her condo building, it still resulted in a lot of people and animals in a small
space. At multiple times throughout the evening, Naomi and her sisters would
conveniently excuse themselves to go back up to Naomi’s condo because something
was “forgotten” even though I know that for most of those times, they simply
wanted a breather from all of the action (as did I). The Seder dinner preparation
probably lasted over two hours. Some of the kids complained that they were
bored and others just couldn’t WAIT until the chicken was served! However,
complaints or not, we had to finish reading the Passover story
from the Haggadah before we could eat. Even though most of the family members
present had heard the story every year since
they were born, we HAD to finish it in its entirety for yet another year. Finally,
we were able to eat, everybody was happy and full, and the cleanup for dessert
started immediately as it was getting late. As I waited for dessert, I
witnessed my favorite moment of the evening. Naomi’s eldest niece, Rafaella, at
18 years old was lying on the couch with her youngest brother and Naomi’s
youngest nephew, Mandella, at about 7/8 years old. I went to sit by them and
listened to what they were saying. I could hear Rafaella doing most of the
talking and when I asked Rafaella what she was doing, she told me she was
telling Mandella a story. Apparently, the
break to talk to me was not authorized by Mandella who ordered “Rafi, keep
telling the story!” I managed to sneak in another
question and discovered that Rafaella was telling Mandella the story of Passover. Upon hearing this, it was like I was hit
with an emotional sledge hammer. I found it riveting. We had JUST finished the
telling of the Passover story during which
Mandella complained a majority of the time because he was hungry or bored. We
had JUST finished the telling of the story for yet another
year in a row and it hadn’t changed and here Mandella wanted to hear the story again. Maybe it wasn’t the story he
wanted to hear though. Maybe it was the closeness he felt as he lay on top of
Rafaella listening to her soothing voice. Maybe it was the connection
he yearned for by hearing a familiar story from someone who
is like a second mother to him. I realized watching those two in that moment
that THIS IS WHAT LIFE IS ALL ABOUT: TELLING AND RETELLING OUR STORIES AND
USING THEM TO CONNECT WITH ONE ANOTHER.
This brings me to Saturday. Saturday evening Larry and I
went to dinner with his parents and his aunt who was visiting from New York.
His aunt had never seen our house so they came over a half hour early to our
place so that she could get the tour. Our house is small and obviously didn’t
take the entire half hour so we had some time to sit on the couch and chat
before leaving for dinner. During this time, Larry’s parents did some story telling. One story in particular
about when Larry was two years old, I have heard about 10 times since meeting
Larry’s parents. After his father told the story for the 11th
time, Larry turned to me and asked how many times I had heard that sorry. I
told him the truth- that I had heard it over 10 times and his father
immediately started to apologize. He affirmed that he would not tell that story again. My heart somewhat sunk. I never want to give
somebody the impression that just because I have heard a story
before means that I never want to hear it again! No! Quite the opposite!
Telling and retelling, even if we are in the double digits for retelling, our
stories is what keeps our traditions alive. As I mentioned above, it’s what
keeps us CONNECTED. So at multiple points for the
rest of the evening I made sure to tell Larry’s father that he must continue to
tell that story in the future.
And there you have it folks. It’s a messy blog. It’s kind of
all over the place. But hopefully you can glean something out of the mess. Hopefully
my sisters enjoy being filled in on my life through these stories. Hopefully
our readers can connect with something here. Maybe you are
inspired to tell or retell one of your stories… Maybe you are inspired to connect with someone today through a story…
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