Attack of the Milkshake Straw

Some days I’m absolutely certain I’m not up to the task of living the life set before me.  Just the other day I injured myself with a plastic straw.  In my defense, it was a stealth attack and it was no ordinary straw.  It was a milkshake sized straw, and it was swole.  It’s funny how I never sensed any danger from the cup holder in my car, and certainly not from the random drinking utensils it often contains.  That just goes to show you that you never know.  You really just never know.  I accidentally chunked out a sliver of arm fat while recklessly setting my elbow down on the arm rest of my car, and now I have a wound that is so uniquely me, I feel like they ought to name it after me.  How does one even explain such an injury? Answer: you don’t.  You hide that stuff because no one will ever believe you’re an actual adult if they know that straws can beat you up.  Shhhhhh!  This never happened.  Next subject!

So how was your summer? Around here we still have a bit of after-summer glow and though the waters are colder, the beaches are at their very best.  It still gets downright hot during the day but the large crowds have dissipated, leaving behind flawless sunsets and gentle breezes for the locals to enjoy.  It really is the most amazing place to live. 

This has been a summer full of firsts for me: first summer as a nurse, first flexible schedule, first road trip with the kids, first time on a cruise ship, and my very first trip to the Bahamas.  Despite all the newness, in many ways it has also been the summer of stillness, with nowhere to be, no deadline to keep, and nothing looming over me.   

My trip to the Bahamas on a giant cruise ship both terrified me within an inch of my life, and gave me immense, though irrational courage.  I fell asleep in our cabin the very first night with little to no concern for my safety.  I was rudely jolted awake in the early hours of the morning by torrential rains and the crashing sounds of apocalyptic thunder.  The behemoth of a ship swayed heavily, to and fro, and I immediately decided I was dying.  I know nothing about maritime pursuits, but I’m fairly certain the water goes under the boat, and shouldn’t pour down from heaven onto its decks.  Once I figured out the end was near, I did what any good wife would do: I woke up my husband so he could die with me.  He was intensely unimpressed by this, and rolled over, absolutely unfazed by the epic storm swirling around us.  

That’s when I decided to order room service.  If one has to die a watery death, I think there should be a last meal offered, especially since the calories won’t count.  The only problem with this logic was that no one could be bothered to answer the room service phone.  Well OBVIOUSLY no one answered! Of course they weren’t worried about customer’s nervous eating habits, THEY WERE TRYING TO KEEP THE SHIP FROM SINKING! At least that’s what I assume was happening down in steerage. No wait, they were probably in a boiler room.  Yes, that’s it.  That’s why I couldn’t get a grilled cheese at 3 am.  Scared and foodless, I sat in that cabin, listening to the rain and wind and my thundering heartbeat until the ship rocked me to sleep in rhythm with the waves.  The next morning, (plot twist), I woke up! No harm done, no signs of any titanic style holes in the hull and a bit of Bob Marley playing on the main deck as though I’d only dreamt about a storm.  Having gone through such a trial and come out unscathed, I suddenly felt remarkably invincible, and the rest of the cruise was worry free.  We made stops in Freeport and Nassau and of the two, I much preferred Nassau.  The many rows of balconied shops and restaurants reminded me of tropical New Orleans, with conch fritters instead of crawfish, and steel drums instead of jazz bands.  It was unbelievably hot, but it was my favorite day of the cruise.

Yes, my summer was full of water fights, road trips, friend’s birthday parties, trampolines, and scary snakes.  I’ve never been more certain that I am living in the good ole days.  I look around me and see every last thing I’ve ever asked for, from the smiles on my children’s faces, to the roof over our heads, and the time we get to spend molding and learning from one another.  I am well loved by a good man, and I am proud of the life and the love we’ve built together.  I fully recognize the rarity of such happiness, and I hold it closer to me because I know its value.  Nursing has brought into my life a sense of now, that keeps me focused on the good in my life, because I’m so often reminded of its fragility.  I know that these priceless things I treasure so, can be cut short, altered in the blink of an eye, and it is with urgent intention that I’ve found happy stillness in my summer.  Seasons march forward within my heart, and through the trees, but the memories made now will bloom forever in my mind. 

In this beautiful stillness there exists also currents of restlessness.  I know that my story is only beginning and I don’t want to get so comfortable that I derail the gifts of the future.  I can’t see very far ahead, I have no idea what it might look like, but I’m looking all the same.  There’s more to be done, more lessons and achievements ahead.

 I still cry too often over things I care about that shouldn’t concern me, and I find myself worried, wondering if I’ll be able to do this thing, this monumental becoming.  There are so many possibilities and the choices I make will determine my direction.  What a privileged responsibility it is to be given a lifetime, and how paralyzing my navigational role is within it.  I sincerely hope I’m making the right turns. 

With Love and Sunshine,

The Glittery Nurse