Change

Change is in the air
Can you hear it in the wind?
Change is in the sky
Can you see it in the stars?

Change is in my heart
Can you hear it in the beat?
Change is on my mind
Can you see it in my eyes?

Change is tumbling through
the streets and mountain tops
Change is taking me
to places I've never been

Change is coming for you
whether you like it or not
Change is almost here
hold on to what you got

Fragility/Stability/Agility

In five short months all of the local Adobe employees will move into a brand new office building. The new location is 20 minutes away from our current business park. Everyone’s commutes will change as a result. Some will be adding 20 minutes each way while others will be more fortunate. Right now my commute is only 5 minutes. I am planning to move closer to our new office in order to keep my commute in check. This will mean moving out of P-town. Everything about this is scary. I have lived in P-town without interruption for six years. I’ve even been in the same apartment complex for four years. Each year I let my roots sink deeper into P-town has been a year full of shiny new faces, cemented friendships, and constant transition. Much of the transition comes in the form of friends getting married and/or moving away. I do my best to follow along with their exciting new lives far away from P-town. It’s easy to be tempted to wander even farther away from my California home town as I wonder what life would be like elsewhere. But then one thought always stops me is, “My job is in Utah!”

That’s right, folks. My feet are pretty firmly planted. I think it’s in my DNA. My parents had the exact same jobs until I graduated from high school in 2001. At that point my mom got a new job working outside of the home and she has remained at that same law firm for 11 years. My dad stayed with his job until he retired in 2010 and totaled 34 years of employment with the same police department. (My parents definitely know a thing or two about commitment – they just celebrated their 42-year wedding anniversary yesterday!) When I was growing up I always assumed I’d dedicate my career to one employer because that was the noble thing to do. Of course that was before I knew anything about the terrors of economic recession and widespread unemployment. Now my loyalty comes from a place of fear of the unknown as opposed to confidence in a steady and thriving future.

Staring down a tunnel of future possibilities can feel like looking into a kaleidoscope. With one twitch of my finger the entire landscape changes. Since the future refuses to hold steady for me (or reveal itself, for that matter) I must instead decide what I want most. Up until this point I have strongly prioritized stability as a quality I want to have in my life. Last week I started thinking of two alternative qualities: fragility and agility. Maybe instead of building my future out of concrete I should build it out of glass or put it on wheels. At least it would be something different.

Yesterday I went on a tour of our office construction site. (Keep in mind that this new office building could very well incent me to stay in Utah for another several years.) After my coworkers and I donned safety vests, eyewear and helmets we set out to imagine what this structure would look like upon completion. The experience was foreign and enlightening (and even a little bit dangerous – double bonus!) There were fragile, stable and agile components all over the place.

FRAGILE (“fra-jee-lay!”)

We came upon a pallet of glass windows sitting on the ground waiting to be installed. Of course the shiny objects immediately drew my eye. “Okay,” I thought. “What if I want to model my life around being fragile? What would that look like?” After some careful consideration I concluded that a fragile life is all about pretty and shiny things. Fragile people do the minimum work to reinforce their internal structural support. They hollow themselves out and wring themselves dry trying to figure out how to keep appearances up. The motivation is to appear to have everything. In the end they barely hold onto anything. Much like a delicate painted egg they dry themselves out – almost to dust – as they wait for a wealthy patron to curate them and lock them in a fine glass display box in a gallery of forgotten treasures. Their lives are on display so everyone can see how much effort and time was put into their artful appearance. They don’t realize that their velvet perch is their final resting place. “Oh no, little egg, you can’t go outside. You’ll break. Oh no, little egg, you can’t see the sun. You’ll fade. Don’t be silly, little egg, you can’t ever change. You’ll lose your value.” Fragile people are eventually rescued and frozen in time or they fall so hard they can’t be put back together again. I think I’ll pass.

STABLE (not to be confused with Stabler)

Ah, now we’re in my element. Everywhere I looked there were thousands of cubic feet of cement ready to offer their undying support for whatever would be placed on top of them. Be it structural foam, carpet, wood, tile or sheet rock, that cement was ready to roll! Well, I guess it can’t roll. I guess it can’t go anywhere. But still – the firmness and steadfastness of it all had me convinced, “This is the way to be!” Offering yourself up as the foundation for everyone else to rest on is noble indeed. Holding perfectly still so no one else could fall would never get old, right? Promising everyone you’ll never change or falter is really no pressure at all. Or is it? Of course it is. Crap. Maybe in the end the “stable” approach only guilts other people into staying the same. Maybe the diehard concrete slabs become so heavy they sink into the ground to be forgotten forever. The general contractor told us the crane they used last year required a 60-feet deep foundation. Now that the crane is gone it isn’t practical to dig the foundation out. It will stay buried and hidden underground waiting for its next chance to be of use to someone. Talk about a depressing outlook.

AGILE (you know this one's going to win)

Near the end of the tour we wound our final path out of the building. The contractor pointed to a piece of equipment outside and said, “That right there is worth its weight in gold.” I don’t think he told us its official name but he aptly described it as a “giant suction cup thing.” It was made to lift panels of glass and glide them toward the building as workers guide them into the windowsills. A single piece of glass can weigh hundreds of pounds. The device (mounted on a small crane and adjustable with pulleys or something of the sort) has the strong grip and fragile touch necessary to lift the glass high in the air and then deftly maneuver it to its final destination. On top of it glass raising ability it can also zoom around to different parts of the construction site. (No 60-foot foundation necessary.) Now that, my friends, sounds like a quality I should strive for. It seems like in the midst of a construction site where odds and ends stuck out all over the place I was able to stumble on a machine to model my life around. Honestly I’d rather be worth my weight in gold than be covered in it. It seems more fun to be on wheels than to be stuck in the ground 60 feet down. My quest now is to transform myself from a rock into a set of wheels - wheels with a great big arm, powerful cables and “giant suction cup things.” It’s slightly strange but very true.

I have no idea if I’ll still be in Utah in the distant future but I have a pretty good idea of what this weekend looks like. Tomorrow my parents will arrive in town and we’re going to have a great time seeing plays, concerts, movies and friends. I am thankful for the examples my parents set for me. Their loyalty provided my sisters and me with a stable home life. I will always value that. I make careful decisions and I don’t plan on changing that any time soon. My roots are still deep with my friends and my employer and I would never sever them carelessly. I just need to figure out how to fit them into a giant pot and transport them to a new city where I can start fresh. Maybe everything about this is scary but I know I can’t turn my back on a perfectly good reason to move somewhere new. I won’t build a fragile life there. I won’t limit myself by being immovable. Instead I will learn to go with the flow, find a niche, and maybe wreak a little havoc. Movers and shakers always do.

Halfway through May

Well, shoot. I can’t believe I let three weeks go by without posting a new blog. There have certainly been some major events I need to document. Let’s get to ’em starting with…

Church!

My ward got divided on April 22^nd. The transition has been a bit of a challenge. Very close friends of mine were moved into a new ward. Luckily we still meet in the same building every Sunday (their ward meets at 12, my ward meets at 1:30) and we get to see each other here and there. The part I love most about the ward division is the continued unity I’ve seen over the past three weeks. There is no hard and fast line boundary line dividing us – we meander in and out of each other’s activities, classes and meetings. It seems we’d rather attend extra hours of church to be together than let our friendships fade. Last night my ward was still playing volleyball for Family Home Evening when the other ward’s FHE had already wrapped. It was awesome to see a bunch of my friends in the other ward hop into the back of my friend’s truck to talk and watch the rest of the game. Everyone just seemed so happy. I hope they are as happy as I am despite all the recent shake-ups.

Friends!

April had a few more bombshells up its sleeve. I was greatly relieved to see that my friends Chloe and Romy barely made the ward boundary cut. The only catch was that Chloe was already in the process of moving to South P-town. Sneaky, sneaky! She only lives 15 minutes away but life just isn’t the same without seeing her every Sunday at church. (Seriously, though, I have learned to support my friends in their desires for bigger and better things. There’s no time to feel sorry for myself when I have so many people to cheer on.) On top of that I heard the great news that my friend Malcolm will be taking an internship in DC this fall semester. He’ll likely leave town the week after my friend Romy gets married and moves to San Jose. Again, I’m happy for my friends but this is a lot of transition! If all that weren’t enough I was already looking down the barrel at my friend Eva’s imminent move to DC. (She left P-town this morning.) That’s right folks, the next stop on the P-town train is Washington, D.C.! Thank goodness my friend Jane already lives there. Now I’ll have three reasons to visit.

Cleaning!

The great P-town Exodus of 2012 is well underway. My roommate, Lola, moved out on April 30^th and headed to Atlanta for a quick school break before taking a summer internship in New York City. In anticipation of my new roommate moving in I grabbed my spring cleaning goal by the horns and spent the first week of May getting rid of “half the stuff in my apartment.” (Well, it was probably only 20% but it certainly felt like 50%.) I spent 2-3 hours each night searching for and destroying clutter. I combed over every closet, drawer, shelf and cabinet I have. I took at least six full garbage bags down to the dumpster and two garbage bags full of recycling in to work (we have a recycling program at work but not at my apartment complex). I gave away a ton of clothes to my friends and I took and entire carload of stuff to Deseret Industries. When my floors were finally clear of all of the piles of discarded items I ran around in circles just for the fun of it. As a special reward to myself I got my car detailed and felt more spic and span than ever.

Cycling!

The strangest thing that happened during my cleaning craze was my sudden urge to pull my bike out for a quick spin. (The first one of the year!) Let’s remember that when I bought my bicycle last July I was completely terrified to ride it. I spent the remainder of the summer trying to convince myself I could ride it without crashing needlessly. I had a goal of riding it once a week and somehow at the end of the summer that goal got away from me. Before I knew it the temperatures dropped and I was concerned my hands would be too cold to properly operate the brakes. (I didn’t want to spend additional money on winter riding gear since the whole bike experience had been so touch-and-go from the beginning.) As winter passed and my bike stayed in storage I worried about forgetting all of the technique I had picked up during last year's practice rides. How would I ever have the guts to get on the bike after an eight month hiatus? Lo and behold I pulled the bike out of my storage shed, got set, got ready, and went! Sure, I only went in a circle through the parking lot, onto the road, and back to my storage unit but STILL – it was easy and it was fun. The revelation that riding a bike really is “like riding a bike” has echoed in my head during my dread-free rides since then.

In summary…

My ward changed, a lot of my friends are moving, I got rid of my stuff like I said I would, I have a new roommate, and I’m back on my bike. (I’m even planning to ride my bike to work this week.) Although change can be traumatizing I hope to embrace every last transition gracefully. May is already halfway over and there’s no telling what surprises are still in store. I just hope they’re good ones!

Oh, hey, what's that I hear? Scarlett and Parley are engaged? Sounds like this is going to be a great summer!

An Observation

Costco is a battlefield. I entered Costco on Monday morning armed to the teeth with a membership card, a shopping list, a shopping cart and a corporate credit card. Nothing could stop me from accomplishing my mission and returning to the office within an hour. I followed the route I had planned out in my head: produce, dried goods, refrigerated section. Bing bang boom. Three cases of Arrowhead, four selections of fruit, 150 plastic cups and five non-perishable bulk-sized snack items later I could hardly push my cart. I steered my tank to a short line guarded by two cashiers. Before I knew it they were grabbing items and pointing their laser-powered bar code reader at my cart. The lead guy asked if I had my membership card with me. Of course I did! I quickly handed it over and he looked at the picture on the back of my card. A split second later he asked me a question that would disarm me completely. “Is this your husband’s card?”


Bang! I’m dead. I had come to conquer Costco and instead I was reduced to smithereens. This guy had mistaken me for a guy. Better put – he had looked at a picture of me and thought I was a guy. (Can you believe that?) I replied, “That’s actually a picture of a girl.” I chose that phrase after it barely edged out an alternative dripping in sarcasm: “Yeah, my husband’s name is Amber.” (My full name was printed in all caps to the left of the photo.) I thought if anything he would apologize after realizing his mistake. Instead of dropping it he said, “Oh wow, that doesn’t look like you at all,” and then showed his buddy my freakishly hideous Costco membership photo. To my horror they laughed and remarked how “well-used” my card was as they tried to pinpoint how a picture could go so wrong. “It just really doesn’t look like you.” I didn’t know what to say (“Thanks…?”) and I didn’t want to be accountable to them for having a bad picture. I didn’t want to tell them that the picture had been taken in 2006 only weeks after I returned from my mission. I didn’t want to explain that sister missionaries were allowed to be hideous. Most of all I didn’t want to laugh it off and say, “Yeah, I know, my forehead’s huge, isn’t it?”

2006. Those were the days. I returned home from the Brazil Rio de Janeiro North Mission on July 30^th, 2006. I stayed in my hometown for four short weeks before moving back to P-town to finish my undergraduate degree. Back in those days I always developed photo prints at Costco. I have nearly 400 photos chronicling my first year back in the states. On Monday night I flipped through my photo albums and noticed something very curious. From August 2006 to August 2007 I was carefree. I was just a 23-year-old kid finishing college. I was relaxed and content to be with friends and family. I planned to head straight to graduate school and therefore was going to dodge the “real life” bullet for another two years. I didn’t have to fend for myself or hunt for jobs. At least, that was the original plan.

In July 2007 things started to change. I decided it might be worth putting my heart on the line and putting off school if it meant I could find that thing called love. I tried it twice and failed both times. I can pinpoint the change in my face as I flip through the pictures. Suddenly there is a guarded edge in my expression, a forced curve in my smile. Eyes that once sparkled with optimism were now steeped in solitude. I wanted something more and it showed in my face – especially in the pictures of two wedding receptions I attended. If the loneliness didn’t do me in then the sheer realization that I was going to leave all of my friends in a few short weeks certainly did. The following flurry of social events and summer’s end socials found me longing for more time and one more chance at happiness.

On August 12^th, 2007 I got one more shot, or so I thought. My friendship with a certain someone took a quick turn in the “relationship” direction. When I found out he wanted to attend my graduation ceremony I was elated. The pictures of that day show two unmistakable types of pride in my face – one stemming from academic achievement, the other from vanity. “Look at me. I have a guy. Look at me and my cute guy.” And so it was for the next several weeks. I was supposed to say goodbye to my Utah friends and move back to California but I didn’t. I was supposed be in graduate school, safely sheltered from the throes of Corporate America but I wasn’t. Instead I was in Utah indefinitely, looking for a job indefinitely, dating someone indefinitely.

From August 2007 to December 2007 I can spot each up and down in my relationship with “my guy.” I can see forced smiles trying to convince the casual observer that everything was fine in my life. I can see the white flags of surrender acknowledging that everything was all wrong. Somewhere in the middle I see the look of resignation that I would have to continue the search that I thought had ended when I fell in love with that boy.

My evolution from soft “RM” (returned missionary) to August 31, 2011 is unmistakable. The guys at Costco were right. I look nothing like my picture. That girl was all eyebrows, all blunt features, all forehead. Today I am a piece of hard-hitting artillery with a sharp jaw, protruding cheekbones and hollowed-out cheeks – not to mention spindly limbs, a curtain of bangs and a wall of hair all designed to distract from my face. With each new batch of pictures I see another piece of me has disappeared, another cushy layer of contentment has receded from the surface of my face. Apprehension wells up in the place once occupied by lightheartedness. The search goes on with no end in sight and I am only left with an observation: “Change is the only constant.”

The Revolving Door

Revolving doors can be a little tricky. Sometimes they are the only means of entering flashy corporate centers and elegant hotels. If you get caught staring at the scenery for too long you may miss your chance to get out of the glass cylinder. If you push too hard on the door in front of you, everyone else inside has to pick up their feet to avoid getting smashed. Its kind of like stepping onto a "down" escalator with your hands full - you have to time it perfectly. If not, it's dominoes all the way down. The more I travel the more I find myself dodging revolving doors and the contents they constantly spill onto the floor - people who are usually looking up at the ceiling or side to side, but hardly paying attention to what's right in front of them. Every once in a while a person comes out of the revolving door that you were supposed to meet. They aren't another obstacle to avoid, instead they're there to fulfill some purpose in your life. You see them for the first time and you swear you've recognized them from a distant memory. Somehow, in all of life's chaos you can find a dear friend who you feel like you've known forever. I've seen several close friends appear from and disappear into the revolving door, and I've taken a couple turns inside myself. Every time I come out I try to remember to watch out for what's in front of me, but many time's I'm caught looking right, left, up or back. Sometimes it's much easier to live in the past and try to ignore the ever encroaching and uncertain future.

Let's start with where I'm most comfortable: the past. I lived in the same house from the time I was two until I was 19-years-old. My parents still live there today. Being in one city for such a long time has allowed them to form deep, lasting relationships that span three decades. My mom did full-time day care for six children (ages 1-3) until I graduated from high school in 2001. When I was two a very special one-year-old came to our home to interview for a spot vacated by a recently "graduated" toddler. Her name was Naomi and her mom was Bonnie. After talking to my mom and watching the other children, Bonnie felt this would be a good place for her daughter. However, her husband had to give the final okay. When he came to see my house my dad happened to be there on a break from work. They realized they had known each other in elementary school and he gave Bonnie approval to bring Naomi to our home. My earliest memory is of Naomi sitting next to me on the couch. The quiet baby with chubby cheeks was looking at me with big brown eyes. During our first years together I just called her "Baby," not only because her first name was so difficult to say, but also because she was as bald as could be. When she graduated the program our moms decided to keep her on the roster and she continued coming to day care until she was 11. Their decision affected the rest of my life. Though I often terrorized Naomi when we were younger, we became best friends. To this day she is the kindest friend anyone could ask for. She was my constant during times of change as people slipped in and out of my life's revolving door.

Naomi was one grade younger than me and we went to different schools when I was in first grade. During the first week of school I met a girl named Lily. We were in the same class and one day she walked up to me on the playground and asked, "Do you want to be best friends?" I said yes. It was as simple as that. At school we were inseparable. We happened to attend the same church and our parents got to know each other a little bit. One night we had a sleepover and Lily told me she was adopted. I was very curious about the circumstances that led to her adoption but she politely informed me she didn't like to talk about it. A few years later we were attending a new school as fourth graders and Lily told me that if I met her in the library during lunch recess, she would tell me about how she was adopted. I agreed to do so and a few hours later I walked out to the playground and got swept away with the kids running for the handball court. I completely forgot about Lily. The next time I saw her she started crying and told me how I had hurt her feelings and how long she waited for me in the library. I couldn't believe I had been so stupid to forget. She told me I'd missed my chance and I regretted that day for a long, long time. A year later we were lining up outside our fifth grade classroom and I overheard one of the girls saying, "Oh Lily, I can't believe you're moving!" The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd never had a best friend move away. Her dad was being transferred to a city nearly three hours away and it was the worst feeling I could imagine. Lily and I had grown distant that year but I thought we would be able to reconcile in time to go to middle school together. I never got the chance to seal the rift that had formed between us. She moved a month later and left the revolving door turning in her wake.

I was beside myself when Lily moved away. Soon after her departure a new girl joined our class. She had moved from Chicago. Her name was Rosario and I wasted no time making her acquaintance. One day we were in the bathroom during recess and in the middle of our conversation I asked her if she wanted to be best friends. I think Lily must have had more tact but Rosario still agreed to my awkward proposal. The truth of it was there was a void in my heart and I was anxious to fill it. However, instead of taking the place left by Lily, a new part of my heart opened up. It was a curious sensation. Rosario, Naomi and I were able to bond together during those last years of pre-adolescence. After school the three of us would walk to Rosario's house. In her backyard we formed a secret society - The Wild Lupine Girls Club. We talked about the boys we liked and imagined adventure scenarios. We built a clubhouse in which we could only call each other my nicknames: Abe, Ro and Ouie. We were quite the trio but our bond changed when Rosario and I moved on to seventh grade and left Naomi at our elementary school. Ro and I were on our own in a whole new world: a large campus surrounded by walls scrawled with graffiti and chain link fences topped with barb wire. It was a place where your lunch money would disappear faster than a magic coin and cliques changed faster than my constantly fluctuating grades. We formed a new trio with my neighbor Enrique. Ro and Enrique's conversations in Spanish would blend with other students' chatter in various African and Asian dialects. This new place was a little scary, but facing it together made it a little easier. At the end of our first year Rosario told me terrible news. Her family was moving to a town 15 miles away. (You're probably thinking, "That's not so terrible," but keep in mind we didn't have drivers licenses or the internet. Our best chance at keeping in touch was on the phone and I'm horrible at talking on the phone.) She would be attending a new school in the fall. We wouldn't be able to experience eighth grade together, let alone our first year of high school. Again I was devastated. I didn't want her to slip through the door. We maintained contact as best we could. Our moms were great sports and often drove us to see each other. By the time we were free to drive to see each other, we had grown apart - something I'd sworn would never happen.

In high school I missed Rosario constantly, but Naomi and I were reunited when she entered ninth grade. Wherever Naomi was I felt at home. Bonnie had become a second mom to me and although the two of them had moved apartments a couple of times Bonnie always kept Naomi in my school district. I knew they'd never leave me and it brought me comfort every day. My high school years flew by and in 2001 it was time to move on to junior college. Again Naomi and I would be separated but I counted on it only being for one year. One of my friends from church was facing a similar situation. Kyla was a year older than her best friend and we were both headed to the JC to figure out majors and game plans for transferring to universities. That first year together allowed us to bond quickly as we were both missing the daily reassurance we'd had from our lifelong best friends. I thought I was too old to have another best friend but I was repeatedly proven wrong. Naomi was accepted to a university in Hawaii and despite our efforts to maintain contact over e-mail, our bond weakened. I felt guilty for growing so close to Kyla but I needed someone who was close by that I could share things with. I needed stability and a safety net. My time to leave home was quickly approaching and Kyla encouraged me to pursue my goals, even if it meant we'd be separated.

In 2003 it was finally time for me to leave home. I'd never thought the day would come when I'd leave a friend behind but I packed my things and walked through the revolving door. On the other side I was surrounded by new streets and faces. P-town was a young, happy college town bustling with excitement and social energy. I tried to assimilate but it was hard to ignore all of the things I was missing at home 800 miles away. I looked at my new surroundings as nothing more than a temporary home (after graduation I planned to promptly return to my hometown or move to a city within a comfortable driving distance). Two months after my arrival in P-town I turned 20 and celebrated with a few new friends as well as some old friends from my hometown. Kyla had moved to P-town that month and my mom sent her to my birthday party with a customized chocolate chip cake with Dream Whip frosting. I began to think this new life might be bearable. Kyla was a steadying force in months leading up to Christmas. She was willing to drive us around on days when the snow fell thick and the roads were covered in deep slush. One day we counted five accidents and seven wrecked cars on the main road. Kyla drove on fearlessly. There was just one little problem: she had a boyfriend. He was living in O-town and there was some ring shopping going on. You know, the kind of ring shopping that could only mean one thing: everything's going to change again. I tried to absorb every moment of free time with Kyla but on the morning we drove to the airport to fly home for Christmas I knew that time was almost up. They became engaged on December 30th. Kyla moved back to my hometown and was married at the end of my second semester of junior year. I had always heard that marriage spelled "doom" for friendships but she didn't allow that to happen to us.

Looking back it seems like everything moved a little faster after Kyla got married. I hurriedly finished my junior year and left on a mission to Brazil the following winter. Naomi was married a year later and I was so sad to miss her wedding. When I got back from my mission in 2006 Kyla was pregnant with her first child. Eight months later I called Naomi to tell her I got into graduate school and she had news too - she was having a baby boy. I thought it was curious that life had sped right on without me. How was it that my two closest friends were already married and having babies? Was I on the right track? I tried to not let it occupy my mind. The summer of 2007 was a whirlwind and I withdrew from my graduate program with the strangest desire to stay in P-town and actually have fun instead of studying all the time. Now, three years later, I finally see this place as my home. I no longer pretend I'm just a visitor here. Kyla still lives in California with her husband and two daughters but Naomi, her husband, and son have moved to T-town, 45 minutes north of P-town. Although I don't see her nearly as much as I should (my fault), it is very comforting to know that she is so close. Bonnie also recently moved to T-town and again I feel like I have one more family member nearby. I had lost contact with Rosario for five years but she found me on Facebook a few months ago and seeing her name in my inbox was one of the happiest moments in recent memory. I'm just waiting for the day that Lily finds me on Facebook. I search for her every once in a while but I have no idea where she is or what she's doing.

Now we've made it to the part where I'm least comfortable: the future. I'm 26-years-old and I don't really know what to think about that. 27 is up next in October and I am pretty sure I don't care that I'm single. (I "care" but I don't "care," if you know what I mean.) It would be really nice to eventually "catch up" to my friends but I guess there really is no catching up. Time seems to get tangled and accelerated amongst life's constant changes... everyone is on a different escalator, elevator, or moving sidewalk and despite my best efforts many are still managing trips through the revolving door. Years seem to fly by and although I can see my closest friends in my mind's eye we are all in different parts of life's lobby - some going up, some going down, some backwards, some back around. One day I might get up to the same floor as them, but by then we may be incredibly different people. Dear friends continue to enter and leave the lobby. Some return and some do not. I watch them come and go and wait to find one who will never leave me. Until then, I have my eye on the shiny glass revolving door framed in polished metal with an ear attuned for the slightest prompt that I should take another trip outside of my comfort zone. I know timing is everything, and for now I perform the delicate balancing act of practicing patience and taking chances. As for today... I think it's time to jump on a "down" escalator with my hands full and see what happens!