My Cousin. Tanya.

In some way, big or small, Tanya impacted many people individually. She inspired them. For each person there is a different story. Mine could hardly be considered significant compared to the many out there, but in this case, the impact this small memory has had on me could have been the dictionary for all the wisdom and truth it's revealed.

As a cousin 16 years her junior, I hardly ever saw Tanya, much less spent time with her. I may have seen her a time or two when I was a wee little thing, but I could hardly remember such an instance. And so, my first (and strongest) memory of Tanya takes place when I was probably around 5 or so.

There was a service being held for someone, where all of the Brain family attended. I can't be certain for whom it was, or when, but I do know that Tanya and Brian were there.

My first impression of the them, was that Brian was very tall, and Tanya had a very pretty dress on; one where when she walked, it would swish pleasantly back and forth and twirl around her legs.

(Note: As a young girl you remember these things quite well, and take careful notice because they are the things you spend your childhood years paying attention to and mimicking as you grow older.)

To continue, after the service there was a pot-luck, and at one point I sat myself down at a round table with a very large slice of cake and started eating my way through it. I was unaware that Tanya was seated to my left and watching me. I remember very well the moment I looked up and found her startling blue eyes upon me, and a humorous smile playing about her lips. She may have asked me a few questions, none of which I remember very clearly, except that through them I discovered we were cousins, and that I like her very much. I continued to sit by her, even after my cake was finished. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that it was something special to be by Tanya. Maybe it was because of her dazzling dress, that could very well have been part of it. Whatever the case, I knew I didn't want to leave the table.

After a few moments of silence that had settled between the two of us, a lilting music sprung up in the background. I could tell Tanya was listening by the way she tilted her head. I knew she was aware I was watching her.

In a decided, yet graceful motion, she stood up and started dancing along with a few others. Still she stayed near me; swishing her pretty dress. I wanted to get up and dance with her- to twirl and smile with her, but I was too shy.

The next moment she had bent down and I heard her ask, “Do you want to dance with me?” I stared into her eyes for a few moments and nodded my head. Of course I wanted to dance! How did she know?

Taking my hands in her own, she and I twirled and swished and spun and smiled. Life was carefree and simple in that moment. I was happy and I was pretty sure by the smile on her face, that she was happy too. She was having fun just as I was. She was a kid, just like me. I didn't sense that she was preoccupied with other “grown up” hardships or difficulties. I was sure that in that moment, she was just like me: happy to be alive and twirling to the music.

It would be years to come until I found out that even during the time of our dance, Tanya's body had been plagued with cancer. I never would have guessed. She left no clues leading to the anguish her body was in. She had the guts to face the pain with a grin on her face, a pretty dress, and a lighthearted bounce in her step.

Tanya, I can see you in heaven right now... dancing among the clouds, wearing a dazzling white dress and that beautiful smile. How happy you must be, my friend...

Growing Old

It's hard watching people that you love grow old. It's like watching a flower grow and bloom, and then... slowly die. It's heart breaking. You had seen that flower at it's best; when it was beautiful and vivacious.

For some, the withering of a flower means that it is no longer worthy to be looked upon- to be adored.

But I think differently.

The more withered the flower becomes, the more fascinated I am with the character it develops. When a flower blooms, often you wouldn't be able to distinguish between it and the one next to it. But when flowers start to crumple and twist as they grow old, each takes on it's own shape; it's own unique traits. Though that seems like a weird analogy (and I agree, it is), I feel it's the same with humans. Granted they are beautiful when they are young, definitely gaze worthy, but even as they age, somehow they become more than just a human; they become a soul; an expression of the life they have led.

And I find that beautiful.

Lemonade

Have you ever met anyone who doesn't like a nice cold lemonade on a hot summer day? No. For sure not. Everyone likes lemonade. It's a fact: Lemonade is all American, all accepted, and loved by all.
There are very few things in today's society that are accepted and loved by everyone, but lemonade managed to sneak it's way into the select few.
Congrats to the person who first introduced it.
I salute you.

Sleep, why must you escape me?

Yet again, I cannot sleep. Every time I turn over to get into a comfortable position, I start to think about something and then I wake up from my thoughts to shift to another position. And therein lies the problem: I promptly move onto another subject, and it all repeats itself over again.

The source of my problem- the true source- is my talent for worrying.

I worry about school. I worry about people. I worry about what tomorrow will bring. I worry about this, and I worry about that. I worry till my brain is tied up in worried little knots that I fall asleep on. And in the morning, I feel as though I hadn't slept a wink because of the state my poor little head was in.

Isn't that just wonderful? I know. The things I put myself through!