Chili-Cheese Dogs

Most days during high school, the days when I had to work, I would take the city bus from school along Woodruff Avenue, and get off at Harvey Way, and hit the Wienerschnitzel. Grama and me, we had a thing. We both loved chili dogs - the super cheap, greasy, messy kind you get for about 89₵.  

She lived just down Harvey Way from the bus stop, and I'd take the chili dogs to her house and spend a few hours with her until I needed to get back on the bus and head to work.  It was time I wouldn't have traded for anything.  I'm so grateful that we had the opportunity to share this special tradition together.

This summer, my kids and I went on a road trip to California (that's another post).  We like to do this every so often. After spending a few days in Hollywood with my sister, we headed to San Diego for some time with my brother.  Along the way, we stopped at Westminster Memorial Park and brought Grama some flowers, and a chili dog.

She knew we were there.

"You are my dragonfly"

Sarah gave me a bracelet for Christmas last year.  It was an Alex and Ani, and had a dragonfly charm on it. She enclosed this letter:

Mom,

            If someone were to ask me what reminds me of you, I would have no trouble thinking of something. For as long as I can remember, you’ve loved dragonflies. You’ve always thought they were so beautiful and intriguing, and you told me that when you died, you would come back to me as one. You will always be the first thing I think of when I see a dragonfly.

            I will forever remember what you taught me: that everything in this life happens for a reason. We’ve always found such simple and seemingly meaningless things to be repetitive, like how we both look at the clock at 4:44, every day. I couldn’t help but wonder, could the dragonfly be one of those things, too?  I decided to look for some ancient myths and stories containing dragonflies so that I could figure out their symbolism. 

“The dragonfly, in almost every part of the world, symbolizes change and change in the perspective of self-realization; the kind of change that has its source in mental and emotional maturity and the understanding of the deeper meaning of life. It’s scurrying flight across water represents an act of going beyond what’s on the surface and looking into the deeper implications and aspects of life, and it’s agile flight and ability to move in all six directions, all while exuding a sense of power and poise, are things that come only with age and maturity. The dragonfly exhibits iridescence both on its wings as well as on its body. Iridescence is the property of an object to show itself in different colors depending on the angle and polarization of light falling on it. This property is seen and believed as the end of one’s self-created illusions and a clear vision into the realities of life. The property of iridescence is also associated with the discovery of one’s own abilities by unmasking the real self and removing the doubts one casts on his/her own sense of identity. This again indirectly means self-discovery and removal of inhibitions. The dragonfly normally lives most of its life as a nymph or an immature. It flies only for a fraction of its life and usually not more than a few months. The adult dragonfly does it all in these few months and leaves nothing to be desired. This style of life symbolizes and exemplifies the virtue of living in the moment and living life to the fullest. By living in the moment you are aware of who you are, where you are, what you are doing, what you want, what you don’t, and make informed choices on a moment-to-moment basis. This ability lets you live your life without regrets. The eyes of the dragonfly are one of the most amazing and awe inspiring sights. Given that almost 80% of the insect’s brain power is dedicated to its sight and the fact that it can see in all 360 degrees around it, it symbolizes the uninhibited vision of the mind and the ability to see beyond the limitations of the human self. It also, in a manner of speaking, symbolizes a man/woman to rise from materialism to be able to see beyond the mundane into the vastness that is really our Universe, and our own minds.”

            The more I read, the more I realized that you are my dragonfly. You have taught me how to adapt as my life changes, and how to stay strong and poised on the outside, even if I don’t feel either of those things on the inside. You’ve taught me to think deeper, and to realize my own abilities, and you’ve taught me not to doubt them. You’ve helped me discover who I am, and who I want to be, where I want to go, and what I want to do with my life. You’ve helped me to let go of my regrets and to live day-to-day. You’ve taught me that there is more to life than we can see, and have always encouraged me to find what’s beneath the surface. You taught me how to fly when it feels like I have no ground left to stand on.

            I hope that you wear this bracelet every day, and that when you look at it, you are reminded of how much I love you, and just how much you mean to me. I know that you will always be there for me, and that you will support me in whatever I decide to do, and I am grateful every day for that. I love you more than words could ever say. Thank you for always taking care of me. I’ll wear my bracelet every day, too, and every time I see it, I’ll be reminded that I’m not alone in anything that I do, because I will always have you. You’re my mom, my best friend, my biggest supporter, my favorite teacher, my role model, and my dragonfly.

Merry Christmas, mama. I love you.

All my love, and all my thanks,

Your Sarafina

Christmas 2013

Thankful.

It’s interesting to me that we can be sort-of programmed to do certain things at certain times. Take today, for example. It’s the last Thursday of November. Pretty much anyone in the United States of America can tell you the significance of this day. It’s Thanksgiving, of course. Since we were children, we can remember mom getting up early putting a turkey in the oven, spending hours and hours and hours making mashed potatoes, and stuffing, and twelve or six or two different side dishes, and rolls, and pies. Tables were set. Music was playing. Guests were dressed up. Wine was poured. Toasts were made. Dinner was served. But why? What is the significance of this day? This moment?

Are we practicing a religious celebration? Nope. Are we expressing our love toward our one and only? Nope. Are we recognizing one of our Country’s great leaders, or fallen soldiers, or national freedom? Nope. Are we copying historical events? Kind-of. We’re copying our mom’s, if nothing else.

Although our Thanksgiving has turned into a very different one than in centuries past, the tradition has remained. The original celebrators we’re thankful for their successful harvest. Ummm . . . I could kill a plastic plant. I have no harvest. I don’t grow corn like the Wampanoag Indians. I don’t catch my own fish, or shoot my own deer, or milk my own cow like the Pilgrims.

My harvest is different.

My harvest is my husband, who is my rock, who makes me insane, who is sarcastic and funny, who has been a part of my life longer than he wasn’t, who is so freaking smart it scares me a little, and who knows just how to hug me so I can feel the fear, or pain, or anger leaving my body with a deep breath.

It’s my children, who were wanted more than words can ever express, who have made me laugh, and cry, and scream, and sing, and dance, and never question, and unwaveringly defend, and pray, and create, and love.

It’s my parents who raised me to expect more of myself tomorrow than I gave today, who taught me to be hopeful, and forgiving, and humble.

It’s my brothers and sister who teased me, tickled me, gave me advice and rides, and loved me, no matter what was happening in our collective or individual lives.

It’s my friends who are emotionally close and logistically way too far, and the ones who are logistically close but I’ve struggled to let myself know.

It's my dogs who bark too much, get poopy-butts, need allergy medicine, and nearly die from excitement when I walk in the door, who can't wait for me to sit down so they can sit on my, who wait patiently through the night to see me the next day.

It’s my home that is messy, disorganized, not decorated the way I want, expensive, warm, filled with photos, and memories, and love, and where my husband and children come back to me.

It’s the job that I don’t usually look forward to going to, but enjoy once I get there, and the paycheck that results.

It’s my car that I hated writing that check for, and resent paying the gas and insurance for, am frustrated to repair, and that gets me safely and unfailingly wherever I ask it to.

It’s the fresh food that I am too tired and lazy to go to the well-lit, plentifully stocked grocery store to buy, and even more unenthused to cook.

It’s the education that never seems to end, that eats up too much time, that is hard and expensive and rewarding and exciting, and will allow me to finally be a teacher.

My harvest is my hopes and dreams, which I am allowed to have because I was raised in a country protected by volunteers and led by visionaries, soldiers and leaders who have guided our country through large and small battles to ensure that I can wake up every day, in my warm home, with my loving husband and children, and go to work, in my car, to make money to buy food, and celebrate Thanksgiving with family and friends.

Even though we have lost so many people that we loved in the past few months, it’s okay to be thankful. In fact, we must be. We must recognize what we have, and loudly appreciate it. We must recognize and loudly appreciate the people around us, and the people who have left us, because each one has given us a piece of who we are today. As cliché as it sounds, we would not be who we are today without their presence in our lives. We must take full advantage of every opportunity that we are presented with, because that’s what freedom means. We must not let one minute of our life pass without it having the significance it deserves.

We’re programmed to do that on Thanksgiving. But, today I realized that every day should be one for giving thanks.