on life and beyond.

and then, of course, things come up. you get bad news that rocks you to your core, affects you from the inside out, changes the way you experience life. 

i lost a family member this week, one who i hadn’t seen in years. my head and heart are flooded with memories of us when we were little and growing up together. we were all merely seeds of the humans we would grow up to be, and we looked to each other to assist us in our discovery. i remember peter’s red hair, his tiny hand holding my even smaller one as he led me around the yard searching for easter eggs. i remember resting my head on his shoulder as i pretended to sleep in the back seat of the car. i remember the picnic we had at mount rainier. i remember visiting him in the hospital, speaking to him on the phone, and praying, praying, praying for him. 

it has been a long time since we spent time together, but he is undeniably a part of my chemistry, an integral and influential part of my childhood. there are no relationships more intimate than the ones you create and foster with family members as a child, and i’m so thankful i got to grow up with peter. i’m thankful to have the opportunity to celebrate his life and mourn his passing with my family this weekend. i’m thankful i’ll be able to give my uncle steve, peter’s father, a hug, to remind him how incredible he is, how how kind and loving and good. 

life is unfair. tragedies present themselves, often when we are at our weakest, when we truly believe we have passed our capacity for pain, for hurting. we are forced to tap into the deepest recesses of ourselves, the buried strength we didn’t even know was there. my uncle is one of the most resilient humans i’ve ever known, and his faith in the universe and in god is unbreakable. i’m praying hard that life brings him peace, that he moves forward from this heartbreak, and that his life becomes one that is filled to the brim with happiness. 

i’m taking this moment to remind the people i care about that i love them, to thank them for their support, compassion, and willingness to be there for me and my family through and through. i would be nothing without them and i’m eternally humbled and grateful.

rest in peace, dear peter. we miss you.

““there’s only one rule that I know of, babies—god damn it, you’ve got to be kind.”

”

— kurt vonnegut

and just when i thought i couldn’t possibly love you more, you showed up, looked right into my eyes, tried so hard not to smile, and

you laughed. you burst into a helpless fit of giggles. the sleeve of your red t-shirt was smudged with my mascara and tears were pouring down my cheeks and you were incredulous, chuckling away.

it was exactly what i needed— simple, surprising, and perfect. before i knew it, i was laughing with you and drinking whiskey and feeling like myself again. 

’m trailing behind you, watching you come to life out here in the middle of nowhere. we are surrounded by lush green and the crisp white of the new snow that dusts our hats and mittens. you are breathing hard, infusing the surrounding molecules with carbon dioxide, pushing them out of the way, reminding them that we are here, 

we are here,

we are here.

my toes are freezing and i’m barely awake. the sun is creeping towards the sky, casting long silky shadows on the trail in front of us. it is silent except for the crunch of our feet on the ground and the patient rhythm of our breath.  you look over your shoulder to make sure i’m close behind and smile as i put my feet in the places where you’ve already stepped, echoing your every move. 

you pulled me gently out of sleep this morning, whispering “i have something to show you,” and trailing your fingers down my cheek, across my collar bones and over my stomach. 

“it’s the middle of the night,” i said, still half-dreaming.

sleepiness clouds my vision but i press on, never more than half a stride behind you as we climb higher and higher. the world reveals herself to us one frame, one tiny sound, one moment at a time. here we are in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of this thing we have built together.

we climb on and our hearts pound and i know this isn’t a race, that there is no destination in mind. we are pressing this morning into the pages of the two of us, integrating it into our collective body, stamping our souls with every passing minute. 

my body mirrors yours as we move along the trail towards the sunrise. my legs stretch to replicate your graceful footsteps, completely content to go wherever they take me,

and i would follow you to the end of the earth.

i would follow you anywhere.