I realized this week, as Brenda and I drove into work together, that it's been a year since my Wisconsin reinstatement...effective 06/24. It's good to be back...but it's also hard, as so many memories remain vivid from my 2005 Summer. Momma, I miss you more than ever.

I remember this date last year—July 1, 2005—I spent the morning at the DMV, obtaining a legitimate Wisconsin driver's license. Afterwards, I spent the day with Mom, while she vigorously cleaned her house...if my mother was masterful at anything (and truly, she was masterful at almost everything, including but not restricted to embarrassing the crap outta me in public), it was maintaining a household.

I grew up in an old farmhouse that my mother made a home. I can't stand to be there now...it smells of vacancy and her belongings lay about as though she'll return any moment. Her purse sits by her dresser mirror, where she'd grab it on her way out in the morning...her lip balm creates a dust cut-out on her bedside table where it has remained unmoved since she took so ill in late December.

It hurts to feel as though your home is gone, to know you can never go back to the happiest place of your life. Mom had a good friend who is also suffering from Cancer...she lost her parents years ago, and Mom would always tell me, "It's just a certain level of security that you lose when one or both of your parents die..." I get it now...better than I could have while she was trying to teach me.

Also a year ago today, I gave my mother's picture frame a purpose. I remember having such fun walking about the place and capturing forever the trinkets and collectibles that sparkled by her hand. I remember how excited she was when I ordered the prints and how her smile broadened when she saw the finished product. I remember it was such a lovely day—full of an inanity that felt so special when spent with one you love.

The memories that sneak up on me are all made of these times...the big events blend away, and I remember only being, only knowing that she was there...only feeling like I understood my place in the world. I miss the laughter...I miss the humor that only she and I shared...I miss the volleying silliness of which we never tired. I'm distracting myself with newness this season.

It's Rhythm and Booms tonight, and for the first time ever, I will watch the awesome display from Warner Park, courtesy of Nick. Last year we giggled through the night, missing the fireworks completely. Nick has been so wonderful over the past several months...he even manages to put up with my attitude somewhat well:



He's helped me overcome many a dark day and to reinstate the levity in life, a lightness that was nearly crushed from existence during the past few years. I am reminded of dialog from the second installment of Lord of the Rings. Sam is talking about legends, the dark stories wherein you didn't want to know the end—because how could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But he says that in the end, it's only a passing shadow, that a new day will come and that the sun will shine clearer...that people keep moving forward instead of turning back because they're holding onto an idea that there's some good in the world, and that it's worth fighting for.

Frodo later realizes, "How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back? There are some things time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep, and take hold." There's no healing for some wounds...but I am determined to latch onto happiness once more. I am determined not to give into defeat. I am determined to live life the way it was meant to be lived—with excitement and not regret...and I've been blessed with a guide. Thank you, Nick.