Excerpts from my journal | 02

Posted: May 21, 2014 by Rachel

engagement photo by tamara kate, 2010

 

i just can’t shake the feeling that i’m meant to live somewhere with open, green fields and dark, chipped wood under my feet. open cupboards and mismatched clay coffee cups stacked on the counter next to a day old pot of coffee. a place where wooded trails are just around the corner and you know all of your neighbors by name. a house with wooden window panes and sheer white curtains, and a yard full of tall grass for dj to roam in. the sparkle – the newness – of las vegas is beginning to wear off.

++

all i wanted was a few more moments.

okay, that’s not entirely true:

i wanted a few hundred more.

++

i’m not sure why i’ve suddenly thought of this but i’m recalling – with a smile and a warm heart – helping my best friend go to the washroom on her wedding day, gathering the fabric of her dress in my hands and holding it, with my head cast downwards and my eyes closed, as she peed. i remember at the time thinking of how it reminded me of all the times, while getting ready to go out, all my girlfriends would gather at one of our houses and get ready together, an event that more often than not meant we would have to pee while the others gathered around the mirror. it’s something so silly, but looking back it makes me long for those moments when my closest friends were just a fifteen minute drive away instead of thousands of miles by airplane. so many of my thoughts these days begin like this one did: with fond memories, yet they end with utter loneliness and longing.

++

i want to be the kind of woman who never lets the fruit bowl go empty.

++

during pregnancy i had all these ideas about the kind of mother i was going to be. i would possess endless patience. i would play when he wants to play, make silly faces all day long if they would make him smile, and hold him in my arms for as long as he will let me. i guess sooner or later you have to accept that sometimes things don’t turn out the way you hoped they would, and that maybe doing the best you can is better than being perfect.

++

i’m at such a loss as to how i feel about this. this morning, as i laid in bed it occurred to me that what i might really want is for them to give me a reason to say no.

xo,

rdg

Excerpts from my journal, inspired by Ronnie.

6 Comments

  • Vanessa May 21, 2014 at 3:58 pm

    lovely

    Reply
  • Kelsey May 21, 2014 at 4:07 pm

    Rachel, I LOVED this installment.

    1) you paint such a vivid picture of nearly the exact same environment I imagine for my family. Shannon and I are set on buying an older home with a big yard in a family-friendly and established neighborhood that we can fix up ourselves, room by room, and make our long term home. I think these days new and shiny and bright is overindulged and overrated. There's something to be said for a little bit of dirt perpetually under your nails, entire days and nights spent outdoors, and putting in a little work to make something exactly the way you want it. Couldn't relate more to this excerpt.

    2) you CAN be the kind of woman who will never let the fruit bowl go empty. We are totally that family. AND IT'S AWESOME. Too easy. You can do it!

    3) oh, girl, this second-to-last excerpt totally speaks to your "letting go of expectations" post on DJ's photo the other day. This is something some of us struggle with more — the idea of perfection vs. the reality of the exact opposite. But you know what? You're right. Sometimes "your" perfect is better than everyone else's perfect. 🙂

    Reply
  • rachel May 21, 2014 at 4:09 pm

    i'm convinced that we were sisters or something in a previous life, lol

    Reply
  • Kaylan May 22, 2014 at 12:02 am

    I don't entirely know what all of this is about but I know the writing is amazing and beautiful and inspiring.

    Reply
  • rachel May 22, 2014 at 12:02 am

    you're so sweet. thank you.

    Reply
  • andrea May 23, 2014 at 7:30 pm

    Your words touch me deep in my heart.

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *