Today is a perfect day. The real life perfect kind of day. I wish you were here. It's a beautiful day outside. Finally not sweltering hot, and not chilly like it has been earlier in the week. It's perfect. I have the windows open, letting in the light and the breeze. The music is playing and I've been dancing around the kitchen.
Finally. Finally able to move about without pain. Finally have the energy to twirl around the apartment. I wish you were here to dance with me.
My belly is perfectly round today. Our little one's kicking can finally be detected from the outside. Although, our tricky little girl always stops moving as soon as a hand is placed on my belly. Perhaps she likes the extra warmth? I wish you were here to feel her today, to talk to her and coax her to respond.
I slipped my moccasins on for the first time in a year. I love those moccasins, a staple from college. I have a feeling they will again become a staple over the next few months. I am already having difficulty bending to put my shoes on, and you won't be here to slip on and force off my beautiful boots. Those will have to be saved for next year.
As I walked out to take the trash out (I'm cleaning you know, on my perfect day, I clean) I felt an urge to take a walk. But I wouldn't know where to go. I haven't been able to explore our new home, so tired, so much pain, since we moved in. You have. You told me once about a trail nearby you want to take me on. But not where. I wish you were here to take me on the trail.
The endless pavement around me makes me ache for Vermont. In Vermont you do not need to drive anywhere to go for a walk. You just walk out your door, and there you are, immersed in nature.
I am so thankful that Ellie and I will be able to spend the summer there. That she will be able to lay with me on the grass, soak in the mild sun, and enjoy the laughter of the trees. I wish you could be there to watch the stars with us.

I am happy today. I feel fulfilled. I have crocheted many rows on little Ellie's blanket. I've baked Pumpkin Bread to bring to your uncle's house. I've danced and I've sang and I've laughed at the gentle nudges in my belly.
It is a perfect day. But you are not here. Oh how I wish you were here.

Blackberries.

I wiped the blackberry juice off on my bare leg and watched it leave a deep purple mark. It reminded me of home. Blackberry stained and scratched as I stumbled through a thorny patch to get the biggest, juiciest fruit. The prize fruit the bears won't even venture toward for fear of the brambles. But I don't care. I know how good they taste. I emerge grinning with blackberry teeth and arms trickling with blood. Victorious.

What a memory. I memory that cannot be placed in any time. A memory that encompasses my childhood. A memory that could be placed in the summer I was twenty one just as soon as it could be from my fifth summer. It is a memory that goes along with bare, blackened, calloused feet. With brambles caught up in my ever tangled hair. With climbing through hay lofts and dropping down through trap doors into a burly old pony's stall. It slides through my memory hand in hand with dusty dirt roads and dandelion puffs and playing hide and seek in the piles of white, wrapped hay bales.

It is a memory of home, happiness, childhood, and innocence. It is a memory of summer.

But it is not summer. I am not home. I wipe my stained fingers onto my tanned, exposed legs on a March evening in Texas.

On an evening I'm missing home.

A letter from Pilot

Eight months ago I wrote this letter to a man I had just met. Two months later I showed the man the letter as we were curled up together on his couch. I was nervous. Nervous to show him that just a couple weeks after we met I was head over heels. Nervous to introduce him to Believe You Me because it was opening a door to my past. But I wanted him to know all of me.
A week later he surprised me with a letter of his own.... (If you haven't read the letter I wrote, go and do that first, otherwise some of the things he says won't make sense!)

 Dear Annie,
Thanks to you I can put into words how I feel about you. When I say your name my stomach somersaults. When someone asks me if I've met anyone here I immediately think of you and smile. I plan events around you and don't want to go anywhere without you. I have a list of things I want to do with you, and trips to take with you. You were so far beyond the bar I set that I never even considered you anything but perfect. I want to be the best person I can be around you and I AM a better person with you in my life.
     Annie, I like you because you are independent and adventurous. I like you because despite your independence you desire someone, some man, by your side. I like you because of your deep passion for learning and teaching. I like your love of children. But most of all, I like you because I LOVE YOU ANNIE, all of you!
   I too let my imagination run and think too far ahead, but suddenly it doesn't scare me. I am comfortable looking past tonight's events, in telling the guys I actually have plans this weekend, in telling people I am going up north for the holidays. Time will only tell if it is true that I am meant for you, you were meant for me, and we are meant for each other. However, you are not just a girl; you are THE GIRL. You flirt just the right amount. You don't scare me away; you make me want to be closer to you. I can't tell you if you're not ready to meet the man you're meant to be with, but I can tell you that I am that man then you seem more than ready, and I am ready. The life you lived before has made you who you are now, and who you are now is the girl I love. I only hope that I can live up to the man you built me up to be. You are not just a girl from Vermont; you are THE GIRL, the woman, from Vermont. 
  Annie, I want to take you flying off into the sunset! I can't put down my phone because I want to text you every corny joke I think of and I wait for your next text; I want to call you every time something good happens. I think of you when I need a happy thought, and when I'm already happy I still think of you. I don't know if they are butterflies, but the way I feel when I hear your voice is indescribable. You are the first girl I have truly been excited for my family and friends to meet. I want to take you to Italy, kiss you under the Eiffel Tower, get lost with you in Big Bend, be uncomfortable on 12 hour flights in coach class with you, and fill scrap books of pictures with us on our many adventures. 
  I may ask you how you have done this to me, the boy with so many walls, with insecurities, with a desire for freedom that gets in the way of relationships, but you made it so easy for me to realize the priorities that truly make a man a MAN. It's not the money, or the job, or the car. No, it's the way you love, the way you care for the people, the person, the woman that loves you that truly matters. Don't be nervous, don't be quiet, don't move slowly, but don't move too fast. Most of all don't worry because I have fallen for you. I hope the affect I have on you is one you love and I hope it doesn't stop. 


I'm yours, head over heels and absolutely not confused, forever,


The Pilot


Last Sunday he asked me to marry him.
We are going to Italy for our honeymoon.

This is only the beginning

Waiting for Pilot to get home is absolutely agonizing. And this is only the beginning. 
I don't know how many times I've exclaimed "I hate the army!" And this is only the beginning.
The uncertainty, the never being able to make solid plans. The "let's buy these tickets and if I'm not here, you can take a friend." plans. And this is only the beginning. 

But it is the waiting that gets me. The day of. The he has been gone all week, for three weeks, for months. And today he will come home. Maybe. But maybe not. Maybe it will rain. Maybe the helicopter will need maintenance. Maybe someone will call and say he's needed just one week more.
And this is only the beginning.

Six months ago I looked at the life ahead of me and I had to make a decision. Do I let myself fall in love with this handsome, kind, goofy, faith filled gentleman who could leave at a moment's notice and be gone for months? Everything about him is so perfect for me, we match up as if we were made for each other. Except, there was this one detail. One tiny detail. One enormous detail.

He is a soldier.

There was the question, could I be a soldier's wife? Could I be an Army Wife?

I struggled with the question for months. But every day I fell more in love. Every day it became more apparent, more obvious; I could never live without him. Even if, at times, I could only have him through email and the occasional phone call, he needed to be in my life. Forever. And this is only the beginning.

It is not going to be easy. I know it will not be easy. These six months have not been easy. The last few weeks I have whispered, I feel like I'm always missing you. And to my mother I've let myself cry, I'm going to be missing him our whole lives. And this is only the beginning


The ever loving, never wanting me to suffer mother asks, Are you sure? Is this really what you want? Can you really handle this?


But I know. I have no choice. He is my love. He will always be my love. I have known it from the day we met. We were always meant to be.  And this is only the beginning.


And so I will wait. Wait forever if I have to. I will get up, make my coffee, scramble some eggs, do my laundry, clean the house. And hope. And pray. Pray that the helicopter will fly. That the phone will not ring. Pray that he will be home before dinner.

Because This is only the beginning.

The Pilot was rushing through the streets as I meandered along. His hand extended behind him as he attempted to pull me forward, faster.
"Why are you rushing? We have all night." I demanded exasperated; finally annoyed with being jerked along.
"But I had planned to be here hours ago, you have to see everything."
"I am trying to see everything but you keep pulling me past! I've never been here before and I'm sure we'll be here many times again so lets just walk and see what we can see. I don't care about seeing everything in the city I just want to enjoy my time with you, so stop rushing ahead!"
As I heard myself utter that last sentence I stopped and laughed at myself. I better take my own advice. Enjoy our time together, stop rushing ahead.

I'm not very good at living in the present. If life is pear shaped and dreary I think back to the summer I was eight. No student loans to pay off, no cars breaking down right before rent is due, no crazy stalker boyfriend hovering around the edges of my life. Just hay bales and dandelions and finally getting to perform in the Children's Theater down the road.
When life is full of butterflies and daisies and a handsome boyfriend who may someday be my husband all I can think of is the future. I daydream about baby names and picket fences. Everything I see is either perfect for my wedding or makes me think of a new idea for our new home. Neighborhoods are no longer just houses and people, they are communities, school districts. In my head I am calculating the distance between our jobs and our potential new home.
The Pilot gets frustrated with me often. Why can't I just live in the moment? Why can't I appreciate the beginning? Why am I in a rush to the end?

The world is telling me to slow down, to calm down, to relax. A fortune cookie while having lunch with my love, a lunch in which I complained that I couldn't wait any longer to start, simply stated: Rome was not built in a day. Be patient. A few weeks later my horoscope, something I never actually read, told me to calm down and take my time.

The beginning of a relationship is always so exciting, so charged with energy. The first few months after you fall in love, you are on a cloud. But I am trying to fly this cloud like a jet and get to the sunset. I need to stop and enjoy the butterflies, the impromptu slow dancing in the kitchen. I need to appreciate his small gestures and the warm looks I receive when I'm doing something silly. Because if I stop and just focus on the now, ingrain these memories into our lives, maybe these small perfect things will never stop.

I found Happiness

The other day the Pilot plucked an eyelash off my cheek, holding it out so that I could make a wish and blow it away. A silly notion, to wish upon a piece of eyelash. Eyelashes fall all the time, what makes it special? And yet, I went in for the wish. But then, I hesitated.

My go-to wish for birthday candles, shooting stars, and eyelashes had, for most of my adult life, been for happiness. Eyes squeezed tight, fists balled, thinking with all my might, I wish I could be happy again. I was finished with depressed, unwilling to be simply content. I wanted euphoria. I wanted to wake up every morning excited about the day ahead. I wanted to go to sleep with a smile on my face. I did not want to have to push myself through each moment of each day. And so, I wished for happiness.

I sat on the couch staring at the lash on his calloused finger. My wish on the tip of my brain. But another thought floated in. Why wish for something you already have? I was surrounded by happiness. I was sitting across from my love who was patiently waiting for me to relieve him of the eyelash. Sitting cozy in the apartment of a dear friend who after only a few short weeks knew all my hopes and dreams, laughing with a girl who just a few hours earlier had begged me to never leave Texas. I was drinking wine, telling stories and giggling. Staring at that simple eyelash I realized how happy I had become.

In high school I had moments of fleeting happiness. Mostly it was dramatic and heartbreaking filled with backstabbing and fair weather friends.

In college I was miserable from start to finish.

Then I found London. I was in a constant state of euphoria. I made amazing,lasting friends. I didn't think it was possible to ever be happier.

When I moved to Copenhagen I immediately realized I didn't fit. The leftover high of London quickly wore off as I struggled to make friends and find my niche. I gave up. I went home.

At home I took a look at the past five years. I had picked up and moved seven times. Seven times. It thrilled me yet terrified me. Why couldn't I stay put? Would I ever be able to settle down for a moment?

Three months ago I moved to Austin. It was a whim, a fancy, a "hey, I have nothing better to do and I hate the cold, so why not?!" 

My mother was cautious and nervous but supportive. "Just, please don't meet a Texas boy and never come back. Promise you'll come back!"

B3 warned me of the difficulties of starting over in a new city , wary of me venturing off on my own without a plan. "It will be exciting and terrifying and hard as hell and you'll want to give up. Don't give up."

Everyone simultaneously applauded my bravery and begged me not to go.

I prayed about it. I was slowly arriving to the point where I would give up on traveling around. I began to yearn for a permanent place. A home all my own. Friends who would last longer than a few months. I wanted solid relationships and the comfort of a city I knew like the back of my hand. I never settled long enough to discover secret hideaways and hole in the wall perfections.

I prayed that I would find my place. I prayed that if Austin wasn't my place I would find out soon, before I left, so I wouldn't have to continue moving all over the country, just searching for happiness.

I prayed for happiness and strength to get me through the difficult times; strength to keep myself from doubting my abilities. The first couple months (and still, yes, still) I prayed for the right kind of friendships, I prayed for friends who would make me a better person. I prayed for holy and beautiful friendships.

Now here I am. Three months in, absolutely in love with everything. In love with Austin, in love with my incredible group of friends, and head over heels in love with the Pilot. I am in awe of my own happiness, in awe of God’s blessings, in awe of life. I haven’t been able to write a single word lately because I am finding it impossible to put into words my elation and thanksgiving. I want to scream from the mountaintops (if Austin had mountains…) about how beautiful my life is. Sometimes I feel a little embarrassed, but I’m not sorry I’m happy! I’ve been waiting for this day. Searching for this day. Searching for the moment where my heart could rest, could let out a sigh of relief and just bask.

I’m so happy it almost hurts.

I squeezed my eyes shut, balled my fists and instead of wishing simply said thank you as I blew the lash to where wishes go.

I am from...

I am from green, rolling hills and dipping valleys, from plastic kites on top of breezy knolls.

I am from the maple trees and dripping sap, from the tangy scent of fresh cut grass.

I am from the dandelion speckled fields, from the red clover and daisies. I am from the wildflowers.

I am from Sunday lunches after church and summers on the stage, from painted faces and lullabies by the fire.

I am from the glacial gap and a million stars. I am from the fireflies and s’mores. I am from old red barns and hiding in the hay loft. I am from burning red foliage and jumping in piles of leaves.

I am from love and laughter and plump figures. I am from “you can do anything” and “reach past the stars.” I am from a gaggle of brothers and superman figurines. I am from forts in the woods, a house in a silo. I am from the land of make believe.

I am from a church of love and forgiveness. I am from a cross around your neck and above your bed. I am from multi-colored rosary beads and a mother blessing her children with holy water. I am from a deep faith that sometimes falters but never falls away.  

I am from a farmhouse and a picket fence, from welcoming arms and helpful hands. I am from dirt roads and swimming holes, from iced tea and chocolate chip cookies at 3 pm.

I am from strawberry rhubarb pies and corn mazes, from sorrel lining the hiking path. I am from hay bale hide and go seek.

I am from hot chocolate and racing toboggans. I am from the best sledding hill in town. I am from snowmen villages and snowball fights. I am from frost bitten toes and red cheeks.

I am from home videos and boxes of pictures that document thirty years. I am from a slideshow on a white wall. I am from mistakes made and lessons learned. I am from memories that will last a lifetime.

I am from laughing into the night and pancakes in the morning. I am from a cup of tea and a good book. I am from cuddles and friendly wrestling.

I am from Irish eyes, romantic hearts, and knocked knees. I am from adventure.