Part of my Novel (PUZZLEMENT)

PUZZLEMENT
I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.
~ Martin Luther King Jr.

Birthdays were really special to me. They meant that a person was one year older and I couldn’t wait to grow up. Today was my fifth birthday. Five years old. It seemed like such a big number.
Sun was shining through the windows of my bedroom, a hopeful indicator of a good day to come. I kicked the covers toward the end of my bed; for once I didn’t mind getting up. I padded over to the door and peeked into JJamie’s room to see if she was awake yet. She wasn’t. I poked her hard in the arm.
"It’s my birthday!"
"Shut up. Go back to sleep." She rolled over.
I stared at her for a moment, debating whether to poke her again, but decided against it. It was annoying she didn’t seem to care it was my birthday.
The old wooden clock downstairs told me that it was 10:00 a.m. It was late and no one was yet up. Other than the snoring I could hear from Mom’s bedroom, the rest of the house was quiet.
A quick glance outside revealed Dad’s truck was gone. I felt a stab of disappointment. His trips to the woods meant he wouldn’t be home until late, and he hadn’t asked me to go with him.
I sat on the couch and stared at a blank television. Turning it on would mean trouble. It seemed as though everyone had forgotten my birthday. No one talked about it or brought it up. It was the only time of the year I got a present.
I wracked my brain to try and remember when the last time they had actually spoken about my birthday. As I sat on the couch, I recalled the terrible events that had led up to today.
It started with an argument, like it always did. Like always, it ended with Mom screaming, Dad yelling, and then the all too familiar sound of the screen door slamming closed.
Normally, the subjects of their arguments were a mystery to me, some sort of grown-up predicament I hoped would be resolved with as little violence as possible. But this time, as I covered my head with my pillow, I knew it was my fault they were arguing. They were arguing about me.
It had also started earlier that day, during one of our usual trips to the store and my brothers had come along. I always hated it when they came along, because they always made me do things I didn’t want to do.
I found myself in the toy isle, a small collection of books, crayons, markers, and games. Someone grabbed my hand roughly, and I looked up with a start. It was Jay, gripping me so that I couldn’t let go.
"Come here." He whispered, pulling me toward the candy isle.
He picked up a snickers bar and some gum. "Put these in your pockets." He said.
"No."
He punched me twice on my arm. "Put these in your pockets or when you get home we will hurt you." He shoved the candy into my hands.
"Hurry up! Put it in your pockets."
I tried to put the candy back on the shelves, but this time, he pinched my arm, hard.
"Do it." He hissed.
Trembling, I put the candy in my pockets. I didn’t know what to do. Maybe when he turned around, I could put it back on the shelves.
Just then, Dad came up with a cart of groceries. "Let’s get going. Go get your brother."
Jay disappeared around the corner. I knew that I only had a few moments alone. I was trembling and afraid. And I couldn’t bring myself to put the candy back.
"Time to go!" Jay announced, grabbing my arm again.
I could barely breathe and my heart was racing. It felt like it was suddenly a million degrees in the store. It seemed to take forever for Dad to go through the line and the telephone at the checkstand kept ringing.
When the clerk finally picked up the phone, she focused her eyes on me. I tried to hide behind Dad, but then a larger clerk came and spoke briefly to the clerk. Then, he said something that I didn’t hear. Dad looked down at me, surprised.
The next thing I know, my pockets were emptied and the stolen candy revealed. His look of disappointment overwhelmed me, and I began to cry. I glanced quickly around, looking for my brothers, but they were nowhere to be found.
We paid for the other items, and rode home in silence. When we arrived at the house, Dad stopped the truck, but didn’t get out. We sat there for a moment before he said, "We aren’t going to tell this to your mother. She doesn’t need to know. Understand?" He looked at my brothers expectantly.
It was only later that I learned that they had said something anyway. Mom was angrier than I had seen her in a long time. They fought and after Dad’s usual disappearance, she came for me. She took me out onto the porch, made me pick out a piece of splintered cedar from the wood box, and then hit me over and over again. I tried to tell her the truth, but it didn’t seem to be the truth she wanted to hear.
The one thing Mom always demanded to know when she hit me was why. That seemed to be the only answer I didn’t know.
Finally, out of desperation and pain, I told her that I was hungry; that was the reason I had stolen the candy. At one point, I put my hand behind my back in order to prevent her from hitting me any longer, and she just kept hitting me anyway, giving my arm a few painful whacks and then hitting me harder for trying to defend myself.
The whole time, she said things like, "This is hurting me more than it’s hurting you." But I didn’t understand how that could possibly be true; I was the one who would wake up in the morning unable to move.
When I was safely in my room, unable to sleep from the pain, I reflected on the events of the day. All I could think was that Dad wasn’t there to protect me. He wasn’t there when I needed him the most.
I felt hopeless and lost, and cried myself to sleep.
It seemed that after my worst beatings, Dad always found a way to take me to the store. Another excuse to get out of the house, for both of us.
"I’m going to take Dawn to the store." He announced one morning.
"She doesn’t deserve to go."
"It’s almost her birthday."
"Do you deserve to go to the store?" she looked at me.
I didn’t know what to say. If it appeared for even a moment that I actually wanted to go to the store, she would find a reason to not let me go.
"No." I replied sullenly, pretending I didn’t care one way or the other. But I did care; I couldn’t wait to get out.
"Take the little beast with you." She sneered. "But she doesn’t deserve to have a birthday."
When we were safely in the truck, it refused to start as always. I was anxious to go before she changed her mind. The truck responded to the turn of the ignition with coughs and sputters. After a few more tries and some cursing from Dad, the Ford roared to life.
It was only when we were out of sight I began to relax.
"Ah, that woman!" Dad understood me; it was as if he was acknowledging feelings I didn’t have to explain.
We got to the store, and I found myself terrified to go in. I grabbed Dad’s hand and looked down at the floor. It felt like everyone was staring at me and my face stayed red the whole time. The clerks would certainly always remember me as the girl who stole from them and I couldn’t bring myself to look at them as we passed.
I stayed as close to Dad during the whole trip as I could, not wanting to leave his side. But when we got to the meat section, I knew it was annoying him.
"Honey, go play." He told me.
Reluctantly, I walked slowly down the isle toward the place I loved so much. There were the same old boring coloring books-Transformers, Superman and Friends, Barbie. But as I moved them aside, a small box caught my eye. It was a picture of a giant chocolate chip cookie with a bite taken out. I picked it up, and realized in excitement that it was a puzzle! It was perfect.
Smiling, I raced to find Dad. As always, his answer was the same. "Okay angel. I don’t have the money to get it today, but if it’s still here the next time, I’ll get it for you, okay?"
"But Dad, it will be gone!" I had never seen such a marvelous thing at the store before. It was better than a coloring book or stickers. I knew that if we didn’t get it right then, it wasn’t going to be there when we got back. But Dad refused, and I put it back on the shelf, hiding it under the coloring books.
The day passed, as it always did. I was in trouble, so play time was not allowed. The next few days, I spent countless time thinking about that cookie puzzle and how much fun it would be to put it together.
A few days later we returned to the store, and I couldn’t wait to get there. All I kept talking about was the cookie puzzle. Dad seemed surprised that I still wanted it. "If it’s still there, you can have it." He chuckled, reminding me that someone else might have bought it in our absence during the week.
I raced to my favorite isle, dug through the pile of coloring books, and discovered that my puzzle, the thing I had waited for, was gone.
Determined, I kept looking-digging through the books. Checking twice. Three times. Maybe it was somewhere else in the isle. I checked the rest of the home goods-the sewing section, the light bulbs, the cleaning supplies. Where else could it possibly be? I walked up and down the isles, scanning near the bottom shelves. Maybe someone had picked it up only to set it down again. It wasn’t long before I found my dad.
"I can’t find it." I whined.
"You can’t always get what you want," was his nonchalant reply. That was it? Here I had waited a whole week only to come back and discover it gone? It was more than I could bear. Mustering up my courage, I approached one of the store clerks. He seemed about the same age as my dad, only taller and much larger in the stomach. "Yes?" he looked down at me uncertainly, as if he didn’t know how to deal with small children.
"There’s a puzzle …" I started. But I realized I hadn’t known what to say and suddenly I was embarrassed.
"A puzzle?" A strange look spread across his face. I was bothering him.
"I was looking for this puzzle I saw here before." I managed.
"Really?" he wiped his hands on his apron. "We don’t usually sell puzzles, I don’t think. But I’ll help you look for it, okay?"
I nodded, taking the lead down the aisle to where the toys were. He claimed the store didn’t sell puzzles, but clearly it did because I had seen that puzzle. Perhaps he didn’t even know where the toy aisle was let alone what to find there. I doubted he had any kids.
"See? No puzzles here." Was his brisk reply, not even having taken more than a minute to help me look. He didn’t even bother to ask anyone else. "Okay." I took one last look through the shelves and then gave up. Clearly, it wasn’t there. Someone else probably had seen how neat it was and had taken it home. I missed out, again. I feeling of disappointment surged through me and nothing else I looked at seemed to even come close to the value of that puzzle.
I found my dad again. When he encouraged me to go play, I just remained by his side, staying silent.
"You really wanted that puzzle, didn’t you?" he said as we left the store.
"Yeah."
Our ride home was spent in silence. I was thankful, for it was one of the few times when silence was welcome. As we drove, I reflected on the fact that despite the few toys I had, somehow that puzzle was the only thing I wanted.
The only consolation seemed to be that my fifth birthday was coming up and I was really excited about it because it was a chance to get another toy if I was really lucky. It wasn’t so much the idea of getting something that excited me, it was the idea of the surprise. Something nice they had to do just for me. It was my birthday. The only day out of the year it got to be all about me.
It seemed as though the days couldn’t pass quickly enough. I was such a good girl. I did more chores in the next few days than ever before; I even volunteered for extra projects-just for a chance to get a birthday present. My mind continually focused on Mom’s words that I didn’t deserve one. If only she knew who I really was, would she say that about me? Would she call me undeserving? Would she call me names then? If she knew that I wasn’t the one who wanted to steal anything, who even thought of such things. Would she even care to know it was the idea of her precious, favorite son?
With all the extra chores, the days flew by. I didn’t have much extra time to beg the boys to play with me anymore. So when they took off on their usual adventures, I did not attempt to go with them or try to figure out where they had gone.
One morning, while our parents were asleep, Jamie and I were peeling potatoes for breakfast. Chris started searching through the cupboards, excited.
"What are you doing?" Jamie asked him.
"Looking for something."
"Duh. What are you looking for?"
"More candles." Was his only reply.
"For what?" Jamie’s hands were on her hips now, their usual resting place.
"For what?" Chris mocked her voice.
"You’re acting more and more like Jay every day."
"Shut up." He kept banging the cupboards closed loudly.
"You shut up!" she hissed. "You’re going to wake up Mom. I’ll tell you where the candles are if you tell me why you want them."
With that, he stopped. "It’s actually really cool." He said proudly. "If I show you what we’re doing, you have to promise not to tell anyone!"
Jamie shrugged, "Who am I going to tell?"
"Her." He pointed to me.
The whole time they had been talking, I had been standing there quietly, potato in one hand, peeler in the other, listening to their conversation. Even though I knew they hated it when I overheard their conversations, my curiosity had gotten the better of me, as it often did.
"She won’t tell anyone."
"Yes, she’ll go running to Daddy, and then we’ll all get into trouble." He emphasized the word Daddy as if to remind me that my dad was not his father, but rather his step-father, a person they detested.
"I will not!" I protested. "I want to know what’s going on!"
"Shhhh!" they spoke in unison.
"She won’t tell." Jamie looked back at him.
He looked at me. "You have to promise you won’t tell anyone."
"I won’t tell. I promise." I was anxious to know what the secret was. I would have promised just about anything to find out what they were up to.
"You better not." He grinned.
Jamie got a chair and stood on top of it, opening cupboards far above my head. She pulled out several large candles and matches. She handed me some to carry, as if to make me know that I was definitely in on whatever they were doing.
I could tell from the way she looked at him curiously, that she was not sure what they were up to either.
We headed silently out the front door and Chris led us back toward the barn. The barn was an older wooden building in the back of the house that housed chickens, goats, and rabbits as well as their feed, hay, and miscellaneous other items including the lawn mower and all of Dad’s woodcutting tools.
Puzzled, both Jamie and I followed him quickly to the barn, almost breaking into a run to catch up.
We opened the door to the barn as quietly as we could to avoid the loud crack it often made as it swung closed. Rays of sunlight peeked into the barn from the random places where the wood was inconsistent or not firmly fit together. But it still took my eyes time to adjust.
"What are we doing here?" Jamie asked Chris, but looked at me. I simply shrugged.
Jamie grabbed me by the hand and we followed Chris past the rabbit cages on the left and back toward where hay bales from the season before we stacked up against the far back wall. The barn had a particular smell, one that I loved. It was a mixture of freshly cut grass, animals, and life.
The hay bales, which at one time were neatly stacked and orderly, were now placed at odd angles and into a strange configuration. We could hear someone or something in the back of the barn.
"Get in here!" I heard Jay demanded.
I stared down at the two candles I saw, and couldn’t bring myself to go into the center of the fort. "The candles!" I gasped.
"Shut up and get in here … now!" Jamie demanded. But it was no use. I wouldn’t budge. I backed up as fast as I could, despite more protests –including threats from the boys. As soon as I was safely out of the fort, I left the barn as fast as I could, my heart beating loudly in my chest.
But I was afraid and stood outside the barn, breathing hard. Didn’t they know what they were doing? The hay was mostly wet, or damp, true, but it could still catch on fire. It wasn’t all damaged by the elements; dad had seen to that.
My mind raced with the possibilities. I was especially afraid for Jamie. If the hay caught on fire while they were inside, they could die… and so would the animals.
A few minutes passed, and I could see the three of them emerge from the barn. I silently hoped that they had extinguished the flames of the candles before they left. They looked annoyed by me and passed me, saying, "Not a word."
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t want to be a "tattle tale" and partly, I hoped to earn their trust. They were only my half brothers and sister and it always seemed like they had their own secret club that I was never a part of. More days passed and still I said nothing. One morning, I woke up late and, like I always did on a beautiful day, sat by the window to admire the beauty outside. I dared not go downstairs lest the day begin and I wanted to enjoy myself just a bit more. It seemed as though the moment Mom heard any movement, she would assign chores, wake up, and start our day of working.
I glanced outside and it was practically cloudless. The sun was shining brightly and the birds were singing their usual happy chorus. I watched as the moisture on the roof of the barn dissipated into the early morning sun. But that’s when I realized that it wasn’t dew but black, angry smoke rising from the building. As quickly as I could, I put my shoes on and raced outside. Dad was already there, running in and out of the barn. He was wheeling out the lawnmower when I found him.
"Get inside the house, now!" He yelled, his voice panicked and harsh.
I immediately obeyed. I waited inside Mom’s greenhouse for signs it was over. But I could hear more yelling and heard the boys being told the same thing.
When it was over, half the barn lay in ruin. I don’t know if any of the rabbits or other animals were hurt, because Dad wouldn’t let me into the barn for weeks. A part of me believes that they had to have been, because given the damage to the barn; there was no way the animals in that section of the barn could have lived.
I had never seen my dad so furious. He yelled at Jay and Chris. Nothing escaped him; he knew exactly who it was. When the yelling was done, I could see that he held in his hand two of the candles, now charred and grotesque looking, that had been recovered from the barn.
No one even questioned whether or not I had started the fire; dad knew me. For once, I felt safe. Safe that is, until Dad started questioned them about their involvement.
I think they would have given in, would have admitted that they were responsible, but Mom came in the room and suddenly their story changed. Before long, the fire was my fault. Jamie claimed she had seen me carting off candles to the barn; suddenly candles that I had never seen before were produced from my room, supposedly "hidden" by me in an attempt to be sneaky.
Before long, I was accused of starting the fire, and with three witnesses against me, I had no chance of anyone believing me. I didn’t even bother to ask them why, nothing they could say would be a good enough answer.
When Mom beat me, she kept demanding I tell her over and over again why I had taken the candles to the barn. But after my hair had been caught on fire, I had been afraid of fire, terrified of it. I could not possibly think of a reason that would make sense to bring the candles to the barn, so I kept telling her the truth, over and over again. She kept hitting me as if the idea of lying to her was more atrocious than the act itself. As each hit continued to torture me, she did not let up and my cries of pain did not stop her.
At some point, I was so much in pain that I found myself unable to breathe. She continued to demand that I tell the truth; she claimed she would stop if I told her the truth. I started to question whether or not I knew what the truth was anymore. It seemed as though it wasn’t the truth she wanted, but merely for me to acknowledge that I was a bad person and that everything was my fault. But she kept hitting me and I could scarcely think as the pain seemed to radiate in all directions in my back. She didn’t even seem to notice that she was now hitting my lower back, the cedar making a painful loud whack as she struck me again and again. When she paused to ask for me to tell her, I made up a story about how I had taken the candles to the barn when everyone was sleeping. I made up a story, ridiculous and impossible, but she didn’t seem to care. She started to hit me again, this time demanding to know why I had lied to her. She didn’t stop hitting me as she promised, and I had given away my integrity. She demanded over and over again to know why I lied to her. No matter what excuse I gave, she would come up with another reason to hit me.
"Why did you lie to me?"
"Because I was scared to get into trouble."
"Then why did you keep lying to me?""I don’t know." I don’t know had been my standard answer, but her questions came as fast as my lies and the whacks even faster.
"Tell me why you lied."
"I don’t know!" I cried, the pain unbearable, the truth like a fleeting thought I couldn’t hold onto.
"WHY DID YOU LIE TO ME?"
"Because I’m a bad girl." I cried out in sheer desperation. Those were the magic words, because she stopped. At long last, she threw the cedar block back into the wood bin.
I pulled up my pants, wincing in pain as the cloth rubbed against my tender backside.
"That’s what you get for lying to me. You don’t seem to learn anything." Her arms were folded now, her eyes distant and cold.
"Now you are going to go to bed." She demanded, pointing inside.
I walked slowly past her, watching her out of the corner of my eye, shaking and afraid to turn my back lest she grab me. She didn’t, but she kept watching me, all the same. Every movement hurt, but I was afraid to show her how much because I feared she would only say something more or do something else. I made my way slowly up the stairs, using the railing to help me. I remember one leg hurting so much that I had to put very little weight on it.
When I got to my room, I was afraid to turn around, afraid to look at what had been done. And yet, I felt my body growing hotter by the second. When I got to my room, all I remember is turning around and seeing something terribly wrong. The backs of my legs had welts the size of softballs sticking out, swollen and hot. Sometime after, I must have collapsed.
I woke up, and found ice packs had been placed under my legs. Jamie stood above me, positioning my legs. Apparently, I must have passed out from the pain, and she picked me up and put me in bed. We didn’t say a word to mom, and luckily she didn’t come up the stairs for us that night.

Suddenly, everything I did was regarded with suspicion. Everything I did was carefully watched and criticized. I didn’t get to play outside or sit in my swing for a very long time. Every day, Mom made me work in her greenhouse, forced to water the plants for hours, clean up dead leaves, replant the pots she had broken in her fits of anger, and stay out of her way. Everything that had gone wrong was my fault; every bad thing that had happened was because of me. I was treated like a bad seed, and Mom often told me how "rotten to the core" I was. She couldn’t believe she had given birth to such an "evil" child. And yet, I kept quiet and kept on watering the plants. My fifth birthday was coming up, and suddenly it didn’t matter anymore.
A few days before my birthday, Dad produced a package and put it next to their bed. I knew it was my birthday present; it was the only time of year when we got anything special. Suddenly, everything that had happened the last couple of weeks dissolved into the curiosity of wanting to know what was in that package. I made excuses to walk by their room when Mom wasn’t there, just so I could try and figure out what it was. The tedious hours spent watering plants melted away as I pondered the mystery of the brown package. There wasn’t much else to think about or look forward to.
The night before my birthday, Dad and Mom got into a giant fight as to whether or not I would get my birthday present.
"She doesn’t deserve it. I think we should take it back." Mom’s voice was demanding.
"It’s hers. I’m not taking it back." Dad’s voice was adamant.
Around and around they went. Mom finally yanked the door open and stared down at me. She had set me to hand wash the entire living room floor.
"You don’t deserve to have a birthday this year, do you?" She stared at me with those piercing blue eyes of hers.
I didn’t know what to say, but the worst response was no response.
"No." I kept on washing the floor.
"That’s right." She snarled. "You don’t deserve a birthday. Therefore, you’re not going to have one."
The days passed slowly; I was given more chores than normal. I somehow had convinced myself that if I did the chores without complaint, I would be reward with whatever it was that was in that package. I hoped that maybe by my birthday, they would forget that I was the "bad child."
The day of my fifth birthday, as I sat on the couch, I recounted all of the events that had happened that had led up to this day. As the day wore on, no one even brought up my birthday. Maybe they forgot! So I decided to say something about it.
"It’s a very special day!" I told my sister, bouncing up and down in front of her.
"I already told you, go away!" she hissed. I left her alone. But later, while she was cleaning the kitchen, I decided to check the fridge to see if they had a cake hidden away for me. There was nothing there.
"There’s no cake." I sighed loudly, shutting the door.
"Shhh." Jamie put her finger to her mouth. "Mom will hear you and wake up!"
"But it’s my birrrthdayy!" I whined. "And you haven’t even said anything to me. You didn’t even wish me a happy birthday!"
Jamie grabbed my arm and looked down at me. "Listen. Mom told us we aren’t allowed to talk about your birthday. So if I were you, I’d just shut up about it already."
So there it was; Mom had decided not to even acknowledge my day. Worse, she had told everyone else not to bring it up either.
"But why?" I protested, even though I already knew the answer. "You could at least wish me a Happy Birthday!" I protested.
"Happy Birthday!" she whispered. "Now leave me alone before we both get into trouble."
I was so upset that I started to cry, and ran out the front door before she could stop me. It was my fifth birthday and Mom told everyone that we weren’t going to celebrate it this year. The one thing I had to look forward to had been taken away from me.
I busied myself with my chores, and tried to forget that it was supposed to be my birthday. I kept singing the words over and over again to myself, but it didn’t feel the same. Usually, I’d get a cake made just for me on my birthday. We didn’t have much money, so cake was rare in our house. Celebrating anything was rarer still. My birthday was being taken away from me for something I hadn’t even done. The thought of it all made me angry at my brothers and especially at my sister for not sticking up for me.
Later that evening, dinner was especially quiet. I was usually the least quiet of everyone; I always had something to say. But today, the sadness I felt couldn’t be lifted. Mom continued to stare at me throughout my meal. I could feel her eyes watching me as I put bite after bite into my mouth, not daring to look up. One by one, everyone else finished their dinners first and asked to be excused. As usual, I was the last one left at the table; it was just Mom and me. The silence made me anxious. At some point, she said, "It’s your birthday today."
I looked up, surprised. Maybe I had been wrong after all.
"Yes!" I dared to let excitement creep into my voice.
She got up from the table and brought me that brown package I had waited so long to open.
"Your dad should have taken this back; you don’t deserve it." She plopped the package in front of me.
I didn’t dare answer, for fear that she would change her mind.
"Open it." She demanded.
"Really?" I looked down at the package wondering if it was a trick.
"Hurry up." She responded. I tore into the brown package with a fury, and there it was-the puzzle I had so desperately wanted. It came in a small box and it was perfect.
I just stared down at it, and couldn’t help but smile. Dad had remembered! That’s why I wasn’t able to find it at the store. He had gone back and gotten it for me.
"May I be excused?" I asked, picking up the puzzle.
"You may." She responded, but she had a strange look on her face. "But you can’t have the puzzle."
I looked up at her curiously.
"I just wanted you to see what you were missing out on." She replied, picking up the puzzle with her bony skeleton hands.
"You don’t deserve to have it. So when I feel you deserve it, I will give it to you. But not until then. Do you understand?"
"Yes." My heart sank. She had given me the puzzle only to take it away again.
Worse, she placed it on her dresser, right where she knew I could see it, and it sat there for weeks and weeks. I tried to convince myself I didn’t want the stupid puzzle anyways, but I did. I pictured putting it together over and over again, and imagining what it might be like to get to eat the cookie. Sometimes I imagined that I would wake up from the bad dream I was having and she would hand me the puzzle and tell me how sorry she was for having taken it away, but she didn’t.
Some time later, Dad saw it sitting on the dresser and mistakenly assumed I had left it there after playing. I don’t think he had any idea she had ever kept it from me. He handed me the box, to my amazement, and said, "Here you go pumpkin. Make sure you put that away so your Mom doesn’t get upset that it’s out."
I knew I wasn’t supposed to get it, but I was so excited, I couldn’t say a word. I took the puzzle up to my room and hid it underneath my pillow. I didn’t dare attempt to put it together just yet.
When Mom found out that Dad had given me the puzzle, she was furious, but after yet another fight, the battle was won. It ended in a flurry of thrown items and slammed doors, but in the end, they seemed to forget why they were fighting. I had been beaten, tortured over something I hadn’t done, and punished for it. But I was also left with the best birthday present I had ever gotten: a silly puzzle shaped like a cookie with a bite taken out.

Do The Math

Haley needed help with her homework. It was just numbers. Black and white formulas on lined paper. Her small hands writing with a large pencil. Remind me to create smaller pencils for smaller hands. Her faced lined in concentration as she carefully drew the rounded numbers.
She is brilliant. Her brown eyes take in everything. She’s not my daughter, but sometimes I wish she was. Her room was a mess and we made a game of cleaning it up. I forgot what it was like to be in a place where it is possible to feel like you’re in a different world. A child’s world-a world of butterflies, fairies, puppies, and happy adventures.
Every day is a new experience, a new feeling, a brand new day. Her backpack sat in the corner, already covered by discarded clothes.
She needs me to help her with her homework, but I need her to help me forget that I don’t have any children and yet remember the sweet joy of youth all at the same time.
Her dad looks on us from time to time, offering a knowing, happy smile. He hasn’t been the same since he got divorced last year. It’s as if a part of him died with his marriage.
When I’m done with Haley, I listen to him talk while he makes me hot chocolate. He tells me about work, life, and always asks my advice. I don’t want to tell him the truth, but I do anyway. I want to assure him that everything is going to be all right, but I can’t because I don’t know that to be true even for myself. Instead, I offer him words of comfort, words of encouragement. He doesn’t have much confidence these days, and it shows on his face and in his voice when he talks to me. But that is another story for another time. If only I could help him remember how amazing he really is ...
I promise him the next time I come over, I’ll cook dinner for him and Haley. They don’t get to see many home cooked meals anymore, since he can’t (or rather shouldn’t) cook. Cooking them dinner always seems to make them just a little bit happier somehow. Haley’s always asking for more ...
Then the night is over, and I make my way home, grateful for the experience, and wondering what it all means. Is it merely just another good deed, something that happens in my head? Or does it mean I’m not crazy? Of course I’m not crazy. I’m just out there, waiting for my life to begin ... and hoping to help a few people along the way. I can’t help but wonder when my time will come. What is wrong with wanting a family of my own and hoping to get that chance to make it happen? That doesn’t make me crazy ... it just makes me human.
Life is more than black and white numbers on paper or smiles or bunny rabbits, it’s the experience of getting to make a difference in someone’s life. And if you do the math, a life filled with love is a life better than just white empty paper.

Prayer For The Broken

So much of my life has been spent in oblivion--that strange place where you try to forget all the bad stuff that’s happened in your life and focus on the good. You try and forget the bad stuff about your friends, relationships, work, life, etc. and focus on what’s good about all those things.
I have purposely tried to avoid negative things because sometimes not knowing the truth is better than the alternative: knowing the truth and allowing it to hurt or affect you. Sometimes, I avoid hearing gossip for this very reason. I would rather not know why people dislike each other because I choose instead to form my own opinion one way or the other. I’d rather not know the toils and obstacles or the shortcomings in a person’s character or life because I’d like to continue to see them as better people than perhaps they really are.
Sometimes, inevitably, you learn about people when you spend time with them. You get to know the good, the bad, and sometimes, the ugly. I realize when I share who it is I am, my past "horrors" tend to scare people away at first because they assume things about me or make judgements about who I am based on my past. That is understandable when you look around and see how many people out there are broken, hurting, sad.
Recently, I was told some disheartening information about someone I hadn’t ever known before. All the questions I had asked myself about this person’s personality were suddenly resolved in the discovery. I was shocked to say the least that this person was so completely broken and lost. Some people are always a victim, a victim of circumstances, a victim of bad relationships, a victim of their own self-deprecating behavior.
Perhaps one day I will have the courage to attempt to post a blog more about this … but for now, I just wanted to say a little prayer for all of those out there who are broken and hurting.
Lately, I have struggled to find faith even in its smallest measure. If you could pray this with me, maybe if there’s a God up there, we can convince him to help heal some of these people so they can find happiness in their lives. If you are the one hurting, or have been hurt, abused, abandoned, whatever, in the past, I hope you can find peace.

God I pray that you help those who are hurting in their lives, those who are sad or broken. I pray that you would lift those people up, bless them, and help them to find peace. I pray that you help them realize that they have a purpose here on earth and they just need to find what it is. I pray that you would offer them comfort in their time of need and that you would look into their hearts and heal their hurts so that they can find whatever purpose it is that they were meant for. I pray that they are able to let go of their hurts and hang-ups and let go of those hurts they have suffered in the past. I pray that you give them strength for this journey of healing and I pray that their hearts are opened to let something new and wonderful happen in their lives. All this I pray in your name. Amen.

Greener Grass

So you’ve probably heard that old familiar saying, "the grass is always greener on the other side [of the fence]." That adage implies that everything always looks better from a different perspective-until you get there, and you realize that the grass looks just the same as everyone else’s-including yours.
But sometimes the grass really is greener on the other side. Let’s take a look at a few things.
When the first flat panel t.v.’s / computer monitors came out and were super mega expensive, I couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to have the thin versatility of the flatscreen and the idea of an uncluttered workspace was especially appealing. But still, my old, bulky, enormously ugly CRT monitor (cathode ray tube) still was functionable. Supposedly the picture was better anyways. But as the time went by, I kept thinking about that flat panel monitor until, one day, I bought one. Let me tell you, it was everything I hoped for in a monitor (well, for the most part) so I was not disappointed (Thank You Samsung!).
In another case, a friend of mine recently confided in me that he was hoping to get a new job-one that expanded his knowledge and that gave him an opportunity to grow within the company-something his current company didn’t offer. He was at yet anoter dead-end job where the pay was absolutely outstanding. Looking for a new job meant the possibility of taking a pay cut, not liking it as much, and the possibility of failure. He kept wondering if the grass was greener on the other side. He loved his co-workers (he’d been working there for five years or so) and loved what he did. But yet there was still that idea in the back of his head eating away at him ... Finally, he took a breath, put out his resume, and got a new job. This job is so much better than his last job. He told me he hadn’t even realized how crappy his old job really was until he got his new one. So this is a perfect example of times when something you don’t have is in fact better than what you do ...
Finally, there are relationships. When I was in my 7 year relationship (wow, I still can’t believe we were together that long), we got along really really well for the most part. We argued at times, like any other couple. But for the most part, we actually had a paretty calm relationship. But in the back of my head, I longed for something more, something different. We had no major commonalities and the more I grew up (I was, after all, very young) the lack of similarities between us started out as a small tributary and grew into a great gulf that separated us. But still, I kept on with the relationship. But every time I had a connection with someone else, a spark of that something I was missing in my relationship, I wondered. I wondered if it really was greener on the other side of the fence. I questioned whether or not the things I wanted were really possible.
After a time, I made up my mind that I needed to find out. So I broke up with him. I would be lying if I said he wasn’t devastated and I truly from the bottom of my heart, regret the callous way I handled everything. I had emotionally disconnected from the relationship a month or two before it was actually over. He probably deserved more of an explanation. But if you were to hear the terms of it all, you might actually say he didn’t. Who knows.
The point is, I wanted to see if the grass was really greener--and in a way, it really was.
Sometimes when we see people in relationships that we don’t understand, it’s easy to point fingers and make snap judgements about what they should do with their lives. We want them to see the possiblity that there is more to life out there than who they’re with. But the reality is, they’re probably thinking through the same things in their mind and wondering to themselves "is the grass really greener on the other side?"
The truth of it all is, I’ve somehow convinced myself that the grass really is greener on my side. Maybe I’m wrong ... I see how people get in relationships, and I’m shocked. I see how people treat one another and I’m apalled. I want to enjoy someone’s company without changing who they are, I want to have an intelligent conversation about random things, I want to be a part of someone’s life and have them be a part of mine. I want them to think to themselves how lucky they are to have me and visa versa. I never want them to regret being in a relationship with me. It’s that simple.
I don’t know what the future holds; I don’t know if I will ever find someone in this lifetime. But that’s okay ... I know I’m not perfect; I know I make stupid mistakes; I know I’m still growing as a person. But I definitely think that I’m worthy of something and someone great. But I just have to be given that chance ... So this might be yet another one of those times when the grass really is greener on the other side.
As far as relationships, I’m sure we’ve all been in those situations and with those people who we are pretty sure are not the IT person. They are the person who tides us over until our real person comes along. But what I’ve noticed is that so many people get trapped by the "stand in" person because they end up getting pregant (sometimes on purpose-don’t even get me started), they have such low self-esteem they are afraid to move on, they feel something is better than nothing, or they just don’t know what they want. They get trapped and then life gets in the way. Suddenly everything has become more complicated. They end up settling and find themselves unhappy.
The truth is, even though people criticize me for taking such a long time to find someone (or criticize me for having standards), I would rather be here, soaking up moderate happiness, than stuck wallowing in a slow death of loneliness or unhappiness. Sometimes it’s worth coming over to the other side because the grass just might give you a place of peace.
I admit though, it does get lonely over here in my patch of personal garden. But when the time is right, everything will work itself out and I won’t have to wonder if the grass is greener elsewhere anymore-because I’ll have already been to the other side to find out.

Ways to Reach Out

I keep putting off the subject of trust, I realize, but it’s really a long blog that I must save for when I have time. Oh my goodness. I totally want to talk about flirting... well, okay, not flirting per say so much as who to do when you’re being flirted with and how to interpret it..
I suck at flirting. Somehow the words that come out of my mouth end up sounding pathetic and ... dumb rather than enchanting and sexy. Go figure. I will probably never have my mother’s seemingly innate ability to seduce any guy at any time. Seriously. Even at her age ... but anyways ...
So instead of calling it flirting, I’m going to call it "Ways to Reach Out" to someone, because let’s face it, we reach out to people all the time. But it’s knowing what to look for when someone reaches out. Perhaps if you reach back, meet them halfway, you might just make a new friend or find a good relationship partner.
A guy friend of mine (you know who you are) keeps asking how to tell when a girl likes him. Even though we all know that when a girl likes you, she’ll make it pretty obvious ... even shy girls have their limits. His point, which is a good one, is what to do as a pre-cursor to flirting so you know your presence would be a welcome one? So, I thought I’d compile a list of some stuff to do to reach out and see what the response is. If the response is positive to at least half the things on the list, then I’m pretty sure the other person likes you. If it’s not, then they probably don’t.
If a guy calls you, he’s reaching out. If a girl calls you, same thing. Whether it’s just to ask you a lame question or to talk to you about the last Laker game, it’s reaching out. (Keep in mind, this doesn’t apply necessarily in work situations. Just so we’re clear).
Anytime the other person asks you questions about yourself, they are reaching out. So then what are you going to do about it? If you like the person, reach back. Oh, and you might disagree with my idea of a positive / negative response, so keep in mind it’s just my opinion ... not fact.
If you like someone, ways to reach out are:
1) Ask them questions about themselves (i.e. what do they do for fun?)Positive Response: an answer. They tell you about the skiing trip they went on last year, the fishing trip they took to wherever, etc. SUPER Positive Response: They ask questions about YOU.Negative response: No answer, or the brush off. I had someone tell me once, "I don’t really do anything for fun." Not exactly a positive response.SUPER Negative Response: Not only do they not answer your question but don’t even bother to ask anything about you. Maybe they change the subject or don’t even answer ...
2) Call them for any reason. Maybe you have a question or want to know something or ... whatever.Positive Response: They sound eager to talk to you and your conversation seems positive and upbeat. Or they return your phone call within a couple of days if you’re unable to reach them.SUPER Positive Response: They tell you they are happy to talk to you or it was really nice talking with you (that implies you should call again or perhaps they will). They also return your phone calls right away. Negative response: They tell you they are really busy at the moment (why did they answer the phone then? That’s why they have voicemail ...) and will have to call you back. But they don’t.SUPER Negative Response: Every time you call, they don’t answer the phone.
3) Ask them out to coffee / dinner / movie, whatever.
Positive Response: They say yes. You set a time and make a plan. You mutually agree on a place to go.SUPER Positive Response: They say yes, you set a time and make a plan, and after your evening (or whatever) they tell you they’d like to see you again. They tell you they are willing to go anywhere (so long as they’re with you).Negative response: They say yes, then blow you off or they say no. They offer some half-hearted explanation. They say something along the lines of, "Maybe" or "I’ll get back to you." And you can’t seem to agree on a plan.SUPER Negative Response: They say no and offer no explanation or they say no and come up with a million reasons they didn’t say yes. Worse, they seem uncomfortable you even asked in the first place. Ouch. That one hurts. Also, they don’t seem to like any plan you come up with.
4) Try to talk to them (more than other people)
Positive Response: They respond with open communication: looking at you while you talk, feet pointed in your direction, there is easy communication.
SUPER Positive Response:All of the above and they return your smile and look into your eyes while talking.
Negative response: Closed body language: Frequent shifting in position while talking to you, yawning, torso pointed away from you, no eye contact while talking, no smile.SUPER Negative Response: All of the above and they interrupt you in the middle of something you’re saying, don’t look at you, frequently check their watch or tap their feet / hands.
5) Smile at them more often (this is a toughie for some people. I don’t mean a fake grin either.)Positive Response: They acknowledge you and smile back.SUPER Positive Response: They acknowledge you, smile back, and stare into your eyes.
Negative response: They just look at you awkwardly, no smile.
SUPER Negative Response: They look away or walk away.
(I should mention that some super shy people have the tendency to look away or down when people smile at them—just food for thought)
6) Touch them gently on the arm, shoulder, hand when you’re talking to them (oh, it’s said that if you do this without thinking about it it’s a sign you’re a genuine, trustworthy person).
Positive Response: They don’t shrink away, they smile.SUPER Positive Response: They don’t shrink away, they smile, and they touch you back, they’ll reciprocate. They will maintain closer body proximity.
Negative response: They shrink away, no smile, no reciprocation.SUPER Negative Response: They put greater distance between the two of you. You won’t be able to maintain close body contact.
7) Do nice or thoughtful things for them.Positive Response: They thank you and return the kindness.SUPER Positive Response: They give you a card or gift back, they offer to help in the future.Negative response: They don’t respond. They don’t return the kindness. They don’t thank you or appear to appreciate the act or possibly even notice.SUPER Negative Response: They seem embarrassed or uncomfortable, they get nervous about it, they tell you not to do anything for them again in the future.
8) Details about You—You mention tiny details about your everyday life: perhaps it’s your favorite color or something you’re interested in.Positive Response: They remember little details you’ve mentioned. They give you compliments. They seem to want to get to know you.SUPER Positive Response: They remember details and mention that they’ve remembered.
Negative response: Silence. They ask you the same questions over and over again.SUPER Negative Response: They appear annoyed by the little details or seem bored when you talk about your life. Their interaction with you feels more like an interrogation rather than a conversation.
9) Making Yourself Available—You give your personal details such as cell phone number, e-mail, etc.Positive Response: They give you their cell phone number.SUPER Positive Response: They give you their cell phone number, fax number, e-mail, and every other detail you can imagine.
Negative response: They don’t give out their information readily, or you have to ask more than once.SUPER Negative Response: They give you the wrong number, a bad number, or refuse to give you their number. Or they just don’t answer when you ask as if pretending not to hear you.
10) Spending time with them-how do they react by spending time with you?
Positive Response: They take the time to get to know you; they respect you.SUPER Positive Response: They respect you, take time to get to know you, and seem to do things because they want to impress you. Negative response: They don’t seem to want to spend time with you.
SUPER Negative Response: They won’t make time to see you. They are always "super busy" or "working" and can’t you a clear answer of when they’re available.
So there you go. Make out your list. +1 point for Positives, +2 for Super Positives. -1 point for Negatives, -2 points for Super Negatives. And if it doesn’t apply, it’s a 0 score. Okay, so this totally seems like easy common sense ... but sometimes I’m not so sure. These are just some of the things I sort of have in the back of my head when I try to reach out to other people or when I am trying to decide if people are reaching out to me. Maybe it’s accurate, maybe it’s not. Who knows.
In the end, if someone really likes you, I think you’ll know. And if they just want to stick you in the "Friends Zone" you’ll figure it out eventually. Good luck

Everyone Gets Scared: A Translation

This is for you ... you know who you are. I'm not going to pretend to be an expert. I'm guilty of all the same behaviors I'm about to explain ... I learned by doing everything wrong. So this is meant to help you.
A year or two ago (forgive me for this!) a friend of mine was struggling. The most unusual thing had happened. She was in this seemingly perfect, awesome, mind-blowing relationship and then suddenly POOF! Just like that, the guy backed away. The first thing she did was like most of our instincts tell us to do, was to try and figure out "what was going wrong." But that seemingly awesome move towards reconnection was actually managing to push the guy away. Okay, so let me see if I can translate.
Let's take a look at what happens when an animal is afraid-what does it do? It runs and hides! It's scared and so either fight or flight mode takes over. For most people, the flight instinct takes over and they turn tails and run.
Now, let's take the most courageous, daring, adventurous person and put them in a situation they've never been in before and see how they react the first time. They aren't going to know how to handle the situation, no, they're going to be scared out of their minds, and they are going to freak out. Almost no one I know (or have ever heard about) can gracefully handle or tackle a NEW scary situation without reacting in a negative way (i.e. running away). It's like if you were suddenly to be put in a cage with a lion you've been told has eaten 10 people. Would you be afraid? You bet you would. Now, what if they continually put you in that cage? After a while, you wouldn't be afraid anymore. Make sense? But the first time you're there, whether the trouble is real or imagined, you're going to freak out and try to run away.
So let's translate that in terms of relationships. I don't mean to stereotype, as that is not the goal here. While I have found that this "fight or flight" mode to clearly exist in both women and men, as I am a woman, I see it more often in men. Therefore, I'm going to approach it from that standpoint. Not stereotyping, just perspective.
So there are a few different "types" of this fight or flight behavior. When you understand its nature, and look at it a different way, you might just save your relationship or save your sanity (or both).
The first type is the kind of person I like to call The Pressured. This person is the one in the relationship with someone because they feel pressured to do something or get with someone, either by family or friends or both. OR it could also be the person who gets into the relationship after getting pressured into dating the person by friends. This sort of implies the person can't think for themselves, but that is a whole different topic… somehow or another, so many of us find ourselves in this kind of relationship. Let's face it, so many people today are ruled by what their friends think. Oh dear. No sense of autonomy. All right, I'm not going to judge. Anyway …
So to give an example of this …Imagine a guy who is in an amazing relationship with a girl. Now, let's get a little background. Perhaps the guy was set up with this girl by his friends (this opens a whole new can of worms, by the way). So he meets the girl and she seems pretty cool. So they start dating and yada yada yada. The next thing he knows, she's not exactly what he expected. The more time he spends with her, the more he realizes that she's not his type and she's not making him happy. But the thing is, he's already in the relationship! So at this point, his fight or flight mode takes over. He doesn't know what to do. He's faced with a question. "Am I in this relationship because it's something I want, or am I in this relationship because my friends pushed me into it?" He can then do one of two things, stay with the girl and hope it gets better, or make the decision to end it. If he stays, his FIGHT instincts eventually take over. So guess what happens? You guessed it, they start to fight. At first, it's just over small things until pretty soon, they are always fighting. If he decides to leave the relationship, his FLIGHT mode instincts have taken over, and he retreats to lick his wounds and regroup to find his center.
In the above instance, you have a person who is torn between two things: staying or going. But it's easy to see in the above example how he would be brought to these conclusions because you (the reader) are aware that she's not his type and that he's not happy. So unless he actually admits his unhappiness to her, she has absolutely no idea that he's secretly considering all of these things in his head. All she knows is that he's suddenly distant, suddenly not communicative, and suddenly backs away.
Let me give another case, one that's quite separate from this. This is the person I'll call The Commitment Phobic. Let's imagine you have a relationship where you feel as though you're totally in sync with one another. You have what appears to be a mind-blowing unbelieveable relationship. Everything is going smoothly. He's talking about getting married to you or he's talking about having you move in or meet his parents or whatever … All of a sudden, for no explicable reason, something happens. Suddenly, the guy who was calling you every single day stops calling! The guy who brought you flowers once a week stops bringing them! The guy who treated you like a princess is suddenly ignoring you and you can't figure out ANYTHING that has gone wrong. You ask him if everything's all right, and he says yes. Or, worse, he completely ignores you and leaves you wondering what in the world is going on! In this case, unbeknownst to you, the guy has gone into FIGHT or FLIGHT mode.
Let me take a moment to decode what is going on and how you can help it and save yourself from getting hurt (as much).
In both situations above, there is that moment before the guy (or girl or whomever) enters FIGHT or FLIGHT mode and that is the time I call the CAVE moment. Let me explain the cave moments. We all have cave moments-those are those times when we go to our caves when things go wrong or when we're having a bad day; it's the place we go when we want to be left alone. Perhaps we go and watch a movie alone or we read a book or we bake some cookies (me!), or we write, or whatever it is that makes us feel good again.
Those moments are often forgotten and overlooked in relationships (but that's another blog for another time). But it's those moments we have to pay attention to and respect especially in our relationships.
Okay, so that moment when your "partner" starts to back away, the WORST thing you could possibly do is to push them for answers. "What's going on?" "Where is our relationship at?" "Why aren't you as loving as you used to be?" "How come you want to spend time by yourself?"
All those questions do is push them right into FIGHT or FLIGHT mode. You are asking for an answer to a question they don't want to think about. So if you force them to come up with an answer, they will! It just won't always be the one you want …
Let me also add that so many people I've talked to also do other crazy behavior when their "partner" goes to their cave including:
Checking their cell phonesCalling them excessively Following them aroundBecoming demandingBecoming possessive or jealousBecoming needy, whiny, complaining, etc.
All the behavior above seems completely crazy when you really stop to look at it. Crazy. This is crazy behavior. Period. Who would want to be with someone who does any of those things? Really?
(Also, I want to interject a good point here. If you become demanding, possessive, and jealous (i.e. CRAZY) do you think you are giving your partner the trust he or she deserves? I'll touch on the issue of the importance of trust tomorrow) ...
Okay, so if you find that your partner begins to back away … stop and let them! You see, they need time to figure out what they want for themselves. Perhaps they got into the relationship too fast or perhaps they just need time away to figure things out … and perhaps, and this happens a lot, they start to get scared.
If ithe relationship is great and then inexplicably poor, I chalk it up to fear. It could be fear of commitment (the most common), fear of abandonment, fear of smothering, fear of who knows. It's still fear. >The guy needs time to get away and figure out what he wants. If you engage in the needy behavior I listed above, you'll only make the decision that much easier for them to make. But that's not who you are, that's the person you've become. For some reason, people think that they have to push harder or demand answers when someone backs away or demands their own space! But people need to have their own space and sometimes, they get so wrapped up into things, they don't stop to take a look at whether or not it's really healthy for them!
So if you start to see behaviors like he stops calling you as much or he doesn't ask you out as much, don't become needy and clingy. Back away, give him space. Give him CAVE time. It takes time for people to get to know one another; it takes time to process feelings and decide whether what you have in the relationship is real or not. Honestly, guys tend to take longer in this process than women. You are asking the guy to spend the rest of his life (well he looks at it that way) with one person-YOU. You have to give them time to figure out if that's what they want.Everyone feels pressure of some sort. If you're the woman, you are pressured to get married, wear the white dress, have the 2.5 children, have the house and you're expected to do all those things when you're young. If you the man, you get pressured by your friends to find the youngest, most attractive mate you can! Guys get pressured from other guys about being "whipped" because the guy spends less time with his friends. Suddenly, all this pressure is being put on something that was in the beginning, supposed to be fun! Now, it suddenly becomes a chore!
Yet, at the same time, eventually we do figure out what we want. We do figure out whether the person we're with is the right person for us. If the person decides to go into FLIGHT mode and run away, and you use the tips I've given you, you won't end things on a bad note. You have too much self worth to let that happen. Instead, you let them go the way they wanted to. Perhaps they will figure things out and come back. But perhaps they won't. Either way, you won't find yourself doing self-sacrificing behaviors that will result in CRAZINESS or in your feeling bad about yourself. You still might be hurt, but getting hurt is a part of life. It's better to realize the person isn't the one for you anyways, don't you think? And you didn't even have to do it by getting possessive, jealous, or crazy.
In my humble opinion, everyone goes through these moments. We all have to decide what we want and we sometimes put ourselves into relationships before we take the time to figure it all out. It's sort of like people who jump into the ocean and then realize how cold it is. Sometimes, they jump in and realize "It's cold!" so they get out quickly. But they slowly wade their way back into the water. Or, they decide they don't want to swim and they leave. Sometimes, a person seems like that's who or what we want, but they're not. Maybe we find someone who fits us better or maybe we discover what we thought we wanted really isn't. It just sucks when the person who isn't wanted turns out to be you.
I think we all need our own cave time, no matter what we try and convince ourselves. That need to have our own lives, our own time, and our own interests preserves our autonomy and keeps things fresh. Relationships become stale after a while when you don't have anything new to talk about.
So don't look at a retreat as always being a bad thing. Remember: everyone gets scared. Sometimes it is necessary to lose the battle but win the war. Just some thoughts … Hope it helps.

More Bees Please!

have always loved bees. Okay, that sounds strange, but it's mostly true. Actually, perhaps it's been more that I have a great respect for them. At age five, I had my first experience with the awesome powers of swarms of those angry hive-dwellers. One day, in the summer, my dad accidentally knocked down a nest and ran back to the house in a panic. Not realizing why he was running so fast, he ran into the house and was covered (covered!) in bees. My sister pushed me out of the kitchen, and all you could hear was the "Whap" and "smack" as she hit my dad over and over again, trying to kill the bees... dying of curiosity, I watched through the keyhole from the living room. It was so funny to see my sister hitting my dad with the fly-swatter, I laughed until I cried.
Bees seemed to be so neat! I would watch them pollenate the fruit trees and their buzzing was always a happy sound for me. Even when I got stung the first time (I was 13) I burst into tears. But it wasn't because I had been stung--nooo--it was a bumblebee and I knew he had stung me and was going to die. I ran with his little bee body carefully cradled in my hand to my mom and cried.
A couple of years ago, it seemed as though (for the first time in years) that there weren't as many bees as there had been when I was a child and was thinking it was because I don't live on a farm anymore (and clearly not in Oregon) but then someone (a really smarty pants-I'm so jealous) told me what's going on.
He explained to me that the bees are dying! Dying?!? Bees? Bees are part of our delicate eco-system. Had our stupid ways finally caught up to us? Apparently, our bee friends are dying in crazy numbers and the sad thing is, they don't know why.
According to one article, "What's causing the carnage, however, is a total mystery; all that scientists have come up with so far is a new name for the phenomenon - Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) - and a list of symptoms." The article goes on to state, "In hives hit by CCD, adult workers simply fly away and disappear, leaving a small cluster of workers and the hive's young to fend for themselves. Adding to the mystery, nearby predators, such as the wax moth, are refraining from moving in to pilfer honey and other hive contents from the abandoned hives; in CCD-affected hives the honey remains untouched..."
Now, it doesn't take a genius to be completely alarmed at this rapid decline in the bee population. It seems strange that we don't even know what's causing it, but experts think that it might be caused by disease or stress (due to US) and a myriad of other factors.
But seriously, this could have some devestating effects on our world if we're not too careful. Years ago, after reading the really impressive book by Rachel Carson "Silent Spring" that really illustrated the dangers of pestiside use on crops (and deaths in humans) that eventually led to the removal of DDT from the market... I felt changed somehow. Ever since then I've been convinced that the chemicals we've been putting in the air, in our bodies, and in the ground have a negative effect on everything and everyone-including our bee friends.
This is yet another reason why we are obligated to investigate this "bee genocide" and seriously must stop it. Experts can't seem to decide how well our crops would do without pollenation (realisitically, most would die-but I'm sure we'd still find a way to survivie)... but I don't care what anyone says, thinking about a world without bees isn't an option just as we wouldn't think of a world without sunshine.
Just a few more scary statistics, experts claim that the bee populations are declining in some areas, the past five years, in rates as much as 90%. That number is unacceptable and shocking.
We must step up and do something before it is too late! These little guys (even the annoying killer bees) can't speak for themselves. We must figure out what is going wrong and attempt to bring balance back before it is too late. I for one don't want to have to worry about what foods I won't get to eat because they can't grow or even have to think about how the world with change without our bee friends around. I would miss hearing the sound of the buzzing during the spring, and don't want to have to tell my children about something they'll never get the pleasure to see for themselves.I'm so glad my guy friend noticed and pointed it out to me. I'm sure he had no idea I was a "bee-tarian" (that's like humanitarian) but who knows how long would have gone by before I really noticed ... Thank goodness he'd been paying attention!
If you get a chance, check it out ...
Sources:
Cosmos Magazine, April 2007http://www.cosmosmagazine.com/node/1087Wikipedia Dictionary -- "Colony Collapse Disorder"en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colony_Collapse_Disorder
"Silent Spring" Rachel Carsonhttp://www.amazon.com/Silent-Spring-Rachel-Carson/dp/0618249060