I like to consider myself unique. I believe in nature vs nurture. I believe my soul comes from somewhere else and this body is just the shell in which I walk my days. Or so I convinced myself.
And then there is home and you. Not the California home I claim as my own, but the city where you raised us. Cleveland, Ohio and a magical childhood despite the struggles, but isn’t life a magical trip? The hardest part of it all is loss. Coming home is truly bittersweet, full of celebration tainted with the sour taste of regret.
My first love, I have been your reluctant twin, believing I am an original when in reality I am just a carbon copy of you. Different but so much the same. You were beauty and fire married with humor and light. I am just the prism reflecting your existence.
I cry uncle, I cry when I don’t want to cry, I cry wolf. I cry.
Birdsong reminds me there is yet another plane to catch, the one thing I should have done long ago. I like to believe you will be flying on the wings of my plane. Drinking Dewars and soda with a Jane Austen novel
In hand; cussing at the flight attendants and causing a beautiful raucous.
In memory of my best friend, My Mother
These are the times that try men’s souls.
That quote really speaks to me, ever since we left Los Angeles for San Francisco in the autumn of 2014 my life has been a roller coaster. So many twists and turns that I am surprised I am still standing. After the move to San Francisco my husband James was laid off, a sudden move back to LA, my Mother passing away and another move to Houston would have broken the strongest person indeed. But here I am, sitting in Houston, Texas drinking water and Starbucks in the public lounge of my apartment building and I lived through it all. Here I am, a little worse for wear; with a damn cold and a damaged soul. As soon as my body heals ( my heart will take more time), I plan to get back into my workout and running routine. I plan to jump back into my goals even though I feel at times there is a brick sitting on my chest. Losing a parent is no joke, it is like there is life before the loss and life after. I often wonder if I will return to my jovial self, I often wonder how do people heal from such a tremendous loss. Through it all I made my lowest weight, 159 lbs, and after my Mother passed away I gained 7 lbs which brings me back up to 166 lbs. Time to get back to work. My Mother passing was the only time I fell off the diet wagon, it was the only time I slipped up and gained weight.
I just returned from my first trip home to Cleveland, Ohio in years. I went for my Mother’s Memorial party and I was reunited with family and my hometown friends. I ain’t gonna lie, this weight loss blogger was not thinking about my healthy diet for the last few months. In Cleveland I think I was on the hometown food tour. My Mother’s Memorial party was a beautiful tribute to everything she was about. My sister Frankie, and her friends Shar and April pulled it off like pro’s and my sister Gina and Rosita out did themselves on the sauce, meatballs, pork and spaghetti. It was wonderful seeing my sisters, my nieces,and my childhood friends and I hope to see them more often. My original girls, my sisters, my loves. Frankie, Dona, Gina, and me. The girls I look up too, all four of them. Each one inspires me to be better and do better just like Mom did.
So here I am again, navigating yet another home. I have so many goals, and accomplishments I am most proud of to date. I will jump back in and get to work. The first step was stepping on the scale, and I am happy that the damage was not too extreme. Time to begin anew in a brand new city. To be strong and emulate the strongest female I have ever knew, my Mother.