Over half of this year is over already. How crazy is that? I recently saw school supplies set up in stores already. I remember that sense of dread when I spotted the notebooks, pencils, and folders prominently displayed right at the front of the store when I was a kid, and I felt cheated, like they were rudely interrupting my summer to remind me that back-to-school was right around the corner.
I started Christmas shopping already and have a few gifts tucked away in my secret spot in the closet, with a few more ordered and on the way. I don’t like to rush with gift shopping. I like time to think, explore, put thought into what I am selecting for each person.
This 4th of July was a special holiday for us, for several personal reasons and private celebrations. Our upcoming Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas are going to be extra festive as well, and I am looking forward to all of them, the entire holiday season.
But first, we aren’t quite done with summer yet, are we? It’s not time to pack away the beach chairs, floppy hat, or travel bag just yet!
I cringe when I see heavily filtered, obviously edited selfies. They always look horrible, fake, and desperate. I’m not sure which is worse: that the person who posted the picture thinks everyone who sees it is stupid enough not to instantly know it is a concocted fantasy image, or that the person clearly dislikes their own appearance so much that they smooth, airbrush, blur, and alter themselves into clownish oblivion.
Not surprisingly, the people most likely to abuse filters are the people who are most invested in promoting a phony life, far more concerned with the image they strategically project than with reality. I have never understood why what other people think of your life would ever be more important than how you actually live your life, but social media has warped small minds into worshipping likes and comments, while devaluing authenticity and truth.
It’s bewildering to me that someone can devote so much time and energy into filtering and editing every wrinkle, every wart, every sag, but pay no attention whatsoever to the far more offensive and decidedly more blatant blemishes of their personality. Who cares if a doctored selfie features an artificially erased complexion, when the person who shamelessly posted it is an unpleasant, deceitful, and downright toxic individual?
What is even the point to this facade? The instant someone lays eyes on you, they will see that your fraudulent image is one hell of a far cry from reality, and what then? What lies and delusions does a grown person feed themselves to prop up a ridiculous make-believe photo and pretend that is really what they look like?
The filtering trend doesn’t seem to be going anywhere and will likely just get worse, as our society descends even further into celebrating unbridled narcissism and shallowness and frivolity. Something to seriously think about, though: when your prized goal is to swipe and scribble and obscure your own face until it is unrecognizable as you…what does that ultimately say about how even you feel aboutyou?
Right up there with Halloween, the 4th of July is one of my very favorite holidays. I’m looking forward to some time off, fireworks, spending time with my husband, and just enjoying what the next few days bring us!
I have often told my husband that he should write a book. He is self-employed and works with so many different people each day, spending time in their homes, and he ends up seeing and hearing snippets of people’s lives that are sometimes hilarious, sometimes sweet, sometimes disgusting! People feel comfortable with him, and as he works in their homes, he becomes their sounding board, their counselor, a witness to their lives.
The other evening, when I got home from work, he told me he wanted to tell me what happened to him earlier that day. I laughed, anticipating some crazy story about a colorful customer, but it was not at all what I expected.
He stopped at a restaurant after work, and he looked up and saw a man sitting nearby, crying at a table, alone. My husband asked him if he was okay, and the man wiped his face and told him it was his first time eating out without his wife. She had died the week before. His son was supposed to be meeting him there, but he was late and hadn’t shown up yet.
My husband told him that he was sure his son would be there soon, but while he was waiting, he invited the man to sit with him so he wasn’t by himself. The man sat down with my husband and told him his story, that he and his wife had spent a lovely weekend together, played hooky on Monday to have more time together, then on Tuesday, as he was driving to work, he got a phone call that his wife had sat down at her desk at work and had simply died. No explanation, no warning. She was there one minute and gone the next.
The man told my husband about his wife, how she liked to plan things, how she had a notebook full of information about places they wanted to visit, trips they wanted to take. He told him how they were running late for work on Tuesday morning, how she was standing in the kitchen when he left, how she said “I love you”, and how he said “I love you too” just as he closed the door to the garage.
He started crying harder as he told my husband this, and he said, “I don’t know if she heard me.”
My husband asked him if he told her he loved her every morning. The man said yes. My husband said, “Then she heard you. Then she knew.”
I felt my eyes fill with tears for a man I had never even met, because I know that regret, that doubt, that tearing apart every detail after someone has died. It’s agonizing. I hope he learns soon to stop adding to his pain.
My husband talked to him a bit longer, then looked up and saw a younger, spitting image of the man walking through the restaurant, looking around. He knew the young man was the man’s son, even without having met him before, because they looked so much alike. He said, “Look who’s here.”
When the father and son saw each other, they hugged, crying, and they sat down together at another table. When my husband went to pay for his meal, the waiter told him it had already been taken care of. The man’s son caught his eye and nodded.
It was hard not to cry when my husband told me this story. It will soon be two years since my mother died, but losing someone that close to you is a deep wound that never really heals. I hope my husband brought some comfort to that man and to his son that day. I hope they find out what happened to her, even if it won’t bring her back, but just to understand a little bit of why she was taken away. I hope that man stops torturing himself with what he thinks he should have done or said differently that morning and learns to focus on the love they shared and the time they had together.
I held my husband tighter that evening. I don’t take any of our days together for granted, and now, I appreciate them even more than I did before. I want to be sure he never doubts how I feel or that my life would not possibly be the same without him in it.
I am not a summer person. At all. I would rather bundle up in a coat than sweat just walking to my car. Sweaters, blankets, boots, fireplaces, hot tea, chilly evenings…that is what I live for.
The beach is hot. There’s sand everywhere. Did I mention it’s hot? I don’t even usually like water all that much.
So why do I love going to the beach with my husband? He made a comment recently that maybe I go mostly to make him happy.
It’s true, I rarely went to the beach before I met my husband. For years, he and I took the kids there, and I helped build sand castles and watched them play in the water, and I took pictures we could enjoy later. My husband and I never took trips just for the two of us–we always planned them so the kids could go with us.
A few years ago, when we started planning a weekend trip, it was so odd knowing that it was going to be just us two, now that the kids are older. The idea of going to the beach came up, and it seemed like such a novel idea. What ever would we do with ourselves, without four kids to keep up with?
We figured it out pretty quickly. We practically ran from our room down to the beach, and soon we were floating blissfully in the water, the warmth of the sun kissing our shoulders and faces, a gentle breeze dancing across the water, and we were hooked. Jumping in the waves, laughing as the tide tries to carry me off, lazily drying off in beach chairs, listening to the waves, heading out to dinner later, exploring…I love all of it.
A weekend beach trip here and there has become something we look forward to every summer now. And my husband has it wrong: I don’t go simply to make him happy. I may not enjoy summer, or being hot, or sand getting everywhere, but when I am with him, it’s just different. It’s fun. It’s relaxing. It’s magical. Because he is with me, and it is our thing, our time together, something we love doing together.
We have another trip coming up soon, and I have already been exploring new places to check out next year. I like the idea of creating experiences, not just buying stuff. Building memories, seeing new places with each other, walking or driving around to see what is over there, what can we get into here?
Ending the day on the beach to watch the sunset has become our thing, too. No matter how many we have watched together, each one is still exciting and beautiful.
So sure, I will be thrilled when the temperature drops, when we need to stack firewood beside the fireplace, when I pull down sweaters from the top shelf of the closet, when the air is crisp and cool and energizing. But for now, if we absolutely have to endure summers, then I will just keep browsing beach websites, checking out hotels and resorts, and shopping for dresses to wear to dinner after our beach day. I will look forward to our next weekend getaway and enjoy all of the pictures from our last one.
For me, it isn’t just the beach itself that I love so much. It’s beautiful, sure, but it’s what it all makes me think of that makes me smile. I see waves and remember how much fun we have jumping in them. I hear those waves crash and feel the peace and tranquility of sitting beside him, chatting, dozing, so relaxed. I see sand and think of walking down the beach, holding hands, picking up shells, waiting for one more sunset.
We have so many memories at the beach now that I love it for one simple, powerful reason: because it’s a place I love sharing with him. I love our framed photos from our beach walks, knowing each one is a piece of our experiences together that no one else has. Just us. And I love the idea of collecting even more together: more memories, more smiles, more shells, more pictures, and always…more sunsets.
Sweat & Sparkle 