a sigh full of life.

I pulled into the driveway, put the car in park, yanked up the the e-brake and sighed. A former boss once told me quite matter of factly that I must drive potential boyfriends crazy with all my sighing.  Is all that sighing really necessary Courtney, he half asked, half stated. It was none of his business, of course, a fact he clearly overlooked. Nonetheless, I politely explained to him that my sighs are not typically out of frustration or restlessness. I sigh to fulfill that very innate craving for a simple little thing called air. A craving that extends beyond my lungs, through my abdomen, all the way down to my toes. But tonight's sigh was different. Tonight's was of the exasperated kind, that kind that was unnecessarily loud and dramatic, yet completely warranted in my mind. I was, as I'm often told I do, catastrophizing. It's December 20th, I haven't purchased a single Christmas present, penned a single Christmas card, or baked a single Christmas cookie. If it weren't for my roommate, our cozy, little two bedroom apartment wouldn't have a single Christmas decoration. So I sighed for my complete and utter disrespect for my absolute favorite holiday. In my defense, November was hands down a pretty shitty month if I may be so blunt, so I did have a rather difficult time finding any semblance of my normal over the top festive spirit. So, I thought, I'll all but skip Christmas this year. But my sigh didn't stop there. I peered out the window into the darkness that crept up so quickly around me and saw that the rain had no intention of tapering off anytime soon. Clearly I was not aware of Mother Nature's agenda this morning when I selectively picked out my "sunny day" only boots that are not meant for any type of precipitation unless I have some irrational desire to ruin them. Get over it Courtney, my mind was quick to pipe up, as I harshly reminded myself that they're nothing more than a pair of completely replaceable shoes.


Pathetically, my sigh was far from over though, as I reflected on the past few weeks. A co-worker recently told me in passing, "you know Courtney, you don't really make small life decisions. When you have your heart set on something, you go after it, and your passion couldn't be more obvious." I joked back that my motto has apparently become "go big, or go home." I recently decided to turn in my CPA license. It won't expire, it just won't remain active, which essentially means I am handing over the keys for a career that I once felt I was supposed to have. Technically I've already done this, when I quit my job two years ago. But this time, I feel like there's no turning back. And what an indescribable feeling that is. I've submitted my resignation at the hospital and am now running full speed into the vast unknown that is my future. So I sighed for the unanswered questions that lay before me. The truth is, I feel liberated, overwhelmed, and nervous all at the same time. Hello, emotion overload! Words cannot express the excitement that is practically radiating from me with the 
thought of finally obtaining a second degree in nursing. I'm ecstatic to go back to school, if for no other reason than I actually like to learn. I get bored easily; my mind needs constant TLC, so I gravitate toward learning new things. But holy moly, talk about doing a 180. I've gone from studying tax laws to genetic code. And it seems that's all.I.ever.do. Work. Study. Sleep. Repeat. No wonder I've all but forgotten about Christmas. So I sighed for the huge leap of faith I am about to take once again. Actually, who am I kidding. This isn't some prissy little leap. This is a holy sh*t, jump off the cliff and hope that my parachute wants to work leap of faith. As my overly dramatic sigh drowned out the melody of the radio blaring from my speakers, I only continued with my woe is me catastrophizing. I thought about all of the college applications I need to start, finish, and submit ASA-freaking-P; the hassle of dealing with FAFSA once again; the fact that it looks like I dropped a bomb in the middle of my bedroom and literally woke up with with a cut on the bottom of my toe yesterday because of a dangly earring that somehow landed in my bed rather than in my jewelry box; that I'll soon need to find a new roommate that hopefully isn't a craigslist killer, and that another one of my beloved elderly volunteers recently passed away and I have to face another depressing funeral service. With too much on my mind and too much to do, I figured it would be in my best interest to start making moves. 


I calmly opened the car door and stepped out into the rain, my anxiety slowly beginning to fade as I inhaled a breath of fresh air underneath the midnight sky. As I trudged up the steps leading to my apartment, I saw a small package laying on the doormat. A spark of hope ran through my veins as I wondered who it was for. I bent down to pick up the fedex, closing my eyes and selfishly praying that it was for me and not my roommate (I love you Kait, but let's face it, I rarely get mail!). Bringing it closer to my face in the darkness, I peered at the address label and saw my name scrawled in a handwriting so familiar that I didn't even need to look at the return label to see who it was from. I practically paraded up the stairwell, tossed aside my purse and sunk into the armchair. Trying my best to not act like a child on Christmas morning, I patiently attempted to not tear the card in half as I pulled it from its envelope. Casting aside the little patience I had left, I tore open the carefully wrapped gift to unveil a book entitled "The Describer's Dictionary." A book chock full of literary quotations and descriptions to have at my fingertips whenever I write. As I paged through my newly acquired treasure, I sunk back further into the cushioned chair and sighed a sigh of sheer
delight and relief. Little did he know, my dear friend Aaron had sent me something so meaningful and heartfelt, I could practically watch my worries and fears dissipate into thin air. How ironic that something as simple as a book from a best friend could bring me back to reality and replace my sighs of frustration with sighs of comfort...happiness...air. 


Christmas, whether I am ready or not, will come along on December 25, just like it does every year. I will navigate through the tangled maze of prerequisite courses, college apps, and student loan apps one way or another. I have made huge leaps of faith before, and with the support of friends and family I have continued to find my way in this crazy little thing called life. 


And when I find myself sighing for anything but a deep breath of air or intoxicating gulps of happiness, I'll think of my friend Aaron, whose genuine kindness and selfless friendship brings me back to reality time and time again. 


PS. Happy Birthday, Aaron :)

lessons of love.

A year (and one day) ago I reached out to the wonders of the world wide web to explore some of my innermost thoughts and feelings, ponder at the intricacies and complexities of life, and share some of the "that would only happen with courtney" stories that define my life. I have always been an incredibly expressive person, so as daunting as it is to expose myself in such an open and public, nevermind vulnerable manner, it was very natural for me to do just that. As much as I enjoy being surrounded by the energy of people, I can be fiercely independent, which is why I am so drawn to writing. My mind never.shuts.off. So being able to pour my tiny little heart out to the unassuming, nonjudgmental keys on my laptop in complete solitude is undeniably therapeutic. There's something intimate and wildly refreshing about decompressing through words by candlelight with the company of no one else, but me, myself, and I.

As I sit here tonight, with the soft glow of burning candle flickering beside my computer, my mind is in a million different places. So I turn to my computer and let my fingers type away and quiet my brain.

For the first 18 years of my life, I shared every major milestone with my cousin. Our mothers are sisters and gave birth to us less than two months apart. We lived less than a mile away from each other. It would have been nearly impossible to not go through every chapter of life side by side. So we did just that. And despite our drastic differences - he was private, I am full disclosure; he tested the boundaries, I often times stayed within them; he preferred the attention of few, I love the attention of many; he was tough, I am sensitive - we remained close for the first 18 years of our lives. When we graduated high school, we went our separate ways, reuniting only every now and then at weddings, family picnics, holidays, and the like. I do wish we had remained closer, but I refuse to regret the path I have taken.

Two days ago, my 27 year old cousin vanished from the world, leaving a seemingly empty void in hundreds of broken hearts.

Death, no matter how familiar we are with it, or how much we can anticipate it, prepare for it, and even accept it, is irrational and cruel. It makes even the most faithful of us question and doubt life as we know it. We fight and deny its very occurrence, refusing to believe there is any truth to it. We surrender ourselves to regret and the all too familiar would of, could of, should of's. It's a vicious cycle that someone maliciously put on repeat everytime we lose a loved one to the universe, God, heaven, whatever it is you believe in.

I have been trapped on an emotional rollercoaster that doesn't seem to want to stop any time soon. My heart aches not just for myself, but for the dozens upon dozens of loved ones my cousin is survived by. I could write until the sun starts to peek out from the horizon on this Thanksgiving dawn about the powerful impact my cousin had on each and every one of the lives he touched. But I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want that. Just a little bit of speculation, but I'm listening to my heart and it's telling me not to make this blog about him anymore than it already is.

So I won't. I'd rather take the time to reflect on how such a devastating and untimely death has pushed me to focus on what's positive in life. My heart runneth over in sheer gratitude and happiness (coincidence that I'm writing this as the early morning hours of Thanksgiving roll in? Maybe. Maybe not), yet I don't often pay enough attention to its presence.

My family - immediate and extended - will never cease to amaze me. They truly bring to life the meaning of the phrase "when the going gets tough, the tough get going." The bonds between and across my family members are intense and unbreakable; it truly is a blessing and a half to know that my family will always be there for each other. The past few days have been a huge testament to this fact, a fact that I will always be grateful for.

My gratitude extends beyond this though. For the past year I have felt a sense of contentment that I haven't quite felt before, yet I don't think I have fully expressed it to the people I need to. For the first time, I feel that I am exactly where I need to be, which is unbelievably satisfying for someone who is constantly trying to figure out this crazy little thing called life. I owe a large part of this to my friends, the ones who have taught and guided me until I was on the right path.  The love, patience, and honesty my friends have shown me is unparalleled to anything else I've ever experienced. I have needed my best friends so much over the past few days, and their kindness, love, and support have brought me to tears in the privacy of my own bedroom. I am so humbled and honored for their presence in my life and pray that I am there for them they way they are for me. When I stumble, they pick me up; when I overreact, they gently put me in my place; when I cry, they don't try to stop me; when I call at 2 in the morning, they answer. Their love is just as great as the love of my family. It's so easy for me to say "I love you" to my parents, sister, and brother, yet I hardly find myself sharing my love with friends. This week has served as a harsh reminder of how precious life is, a reminder that I am thankful for.  We often overlook and take for granted what it means to love and to be loved. And more importantly, to express this love.

So while I can sit here and feel as though there is an empty void in my heart that will never be filled by the passing of my cousin, I feel as though I'd be lying to myself. I want my heart to be overflowing with love for my family and friends, yet this can't happen with a void. So, yes, I will cry my tears and process the irrationality of death, but I will not let there be a void. Filling the void created by death with love is not replacing my cousin or any of the other loved ones who have passed away. It is my way of honoring them.

To all of my friends and family. I love you.

in gratitude.

I slipped into an oversized, threadbare t-shirt, softened over the years from being worn and washed so many times; flipped the light switch on my wall, allowing darkness to drown out the warm glow of light peering underneath my lampshade; and sunk into my inviting bed, my down comforter and plush pillows embracing my body. My body was craving sleep, but my mind had other ideas. Still not adjusted to the darkness, I blindly felt around for my iPhone, bringing it close to my face. After checking facebook and both e-mail accounts, I typed in the letters of my favorite website, wimp.com, hoping that after watching a few of this week's top videos, my mind would oblige to my body’s request to surrender to sleep.

The first video I watched was extraordinary, a surfer riding a 90 foot wave. I have a deep admiration for surfers who can face the enormous depths of the ocean without an ounce of fear. Although I am very much a lover of all things beach related, the magnificent power of the ocean will always overwhelm me. So for 24 seconds my eyes widened in fascination as I watched a surfer defeating a rapidly crumbling 90 foot wall of water. Breathtakingly amazing.

I clicked back to the homepage and scanned the titles, waiting for another video to speak to me. Because that’s what I’ve come to do in life, go after the things that speak straight to my heart and mind. Probably a silly notion to some, but it’s a way of life that I have adopted and truly thrive on. One of my favorite aspects of this site is how understated the titles are. When my eyes glazed over the link entitled “Simple Gratitude,” my heart may have skipped a beat. My cousin, Tricia, writes a blog about living a life of gratitude, and I just knew that this video would speak to me the way her blogs speak to me. When I realized that it was a link for a TED talk (please, please, please google TED talks if you have no idea what the heck I’m talking about. You’ll do your brain a huge favor. Trust me. Go on, google it!), my heart sank a bit. As much as I love TED talks, this particular one was ten minutes, short for a TED talk, but I honestly didn’t know if I wanted to devote that much time to it. I really did need to get some shut eye! But, alas, I did...

And so should you.

Because, oh.my.God, my inspiration levels skyrocketed through the roof as I absorbed every.single.word and every.single.picture in the video.

I really wish I could find the right words to describe the instantaneous effect this video had on me, but I just know that my words will not do it justice. For anyone reading my blog, I implore you to watch this video www.wimp.com/simplegratitude.

Louis Schwartzberg, a name I admittedly had never heard of before viewing this TED talk, is an award winning cinematographer, specializing in time lapse photography. His footage alone was enough to take my breath away. What followed after his introduction was a narrative so empowering I knew I had to capture it in my blog.

Today is a gift, be thankful for it. Yes, I get it. We’ve all been told this a million times before and I guarantee we’ll probably be reminded of this a million more times. But what does this phrase really mean. What if we each take this already simple concept and break it down even further.

How much would my life be different - for the better - if I actually took a step back to be fully present in my life, rather than just going through the motions. Each day isn’t just another day. It’s the one day that’s been given to each of us and it’s the one gift we’ve all been given to celebrate life. I want my life to be BIG and beautiful. But, in order for this to happen I must be an active participant in my own life. I need to realize all that I already have.

Louis quotes that 80% of the information we receive comes through our eyes. How often do I overlook the beauty of what is right in front of me and focus my energy on silly, negative things. How often do I overlook the ridiculously awesome fact that I am blessed with eyes that allow me to see the unparalleled beauty of life. If I just opened them and looked beyond what is right in front of me I could tap into so much more. The faces of the people I interact with each and every day hide thousands of stories just waiting to be shared. How often do these stories go overlooked because I am “too busy” to look at what my eyes are actually trying to show me. I have the ability to choose what I want to look at and internalize, a blessing that is so often taken for granted.

Life is worthy of gratitude. What if I began cultivating a grateful response to all that life provides me with. After all, isn’t gratefulness the most appropriate response for the gift of each present moment I am given. A heart can never be too full to be thankful.  It can never have too much love or kindness. But how often do we dismiss the very essence of our hearts and the blessings that manifest from within them. I want my heart to overflow with gratitude for the things I have and the life I’ve been blessed with. I may not have all of the material things someone wealthier than me may have.  But I have so much to be grateful for this very second in time. I have access to water. I can drink healthy water whenever I want to and take an exceedingly hot shower just because I feel like it. Such an incredibly simple thing, but something that not everyone has. I have the ability to process the wonder of the human touch and how it warms my soul. I can pick up my phone and be in touch with the dozens of people I love and cherish within seconds. I can sit in the warmth of my own home and type my innermost thoughts and feelings and share them with anyone I want to. I can enjoy a lazy Saturday evening by myself doing absolutely nothing and love every second of it. I can love and be loved.  I can have my own hopes and dreams and explore all that life has to offer.

The sense of wonder we each have for life is extraordinary, but we’ll never realize it until we learn to be grateful for it. Once we’re present in our lives, we’ll be able to understand the very present of life.

...With so much to think about - to be grateful for - my mind was finally tired enough for sleep. I clicked off my phone, sunk further into my bed and drifted off into a dream of gratitude.

listening is making a comeback.

"How is your husband feeling?" I asked my colleague, feigning sincerity as I was asking more out of sheer politeness than of genuine concern. A pang of guilt still rings through me for my insincerity, especially since it's my co-worker who I don't care for, rather than her innocent ailing husband. She offered little detail in her reply, being careful to match my somewhat obvious disinterest in the conversation. I was gracious of her valiant effort to at least fast forward through as many awkward pauses as possible. As she droned on and on, my mind was left to wonder. I was just beginning to space out when that ever so slight part of my brain that was still engaged in the conversation picked up on something she was saying. Her voice had turned bitter, as if there was an unpleasant taste in her mouth. What rolled off her pretentious tongue next really shouldn't have come as surprise to me, but it did. Apparently this woman, in all of her prestige and power, didn't have a regard for other people's problems given her own situation at home. After all, how could anyone else's problems added up together even remotely compare to what she was going through at home?

Maybe I should have given her a high-five for saying what a lot of us tend to think, but would never dream of admitting to our loved ones...family...friends. It's incredibly easy for us - me, you - to get so wrapped up into our own problems that we tend to lose sight of reality. We become so absorbed in the things that are troubling us - however big or small they may be - that we often forget about the one thing that ties together all of humanity. We are not alone. Instead of embracing the reality of this, we crawl deeper into our holes, creating barriers amongst us. We start to compare our woes to those of our friends and enemies. The deeper we crawl, the thicker the walls become, until we no longer even reach out to the loved ones we once so desperately needed. Of course, I realize, it's okay to bottle our emotions at times. To internalize our thoughts and feelings. To simply not want to reach out to a friend. I get this. I've been there before. And sometimes it's nice to throw a pity party for no one else but y-o-u, complete with a bottle of wine, a pint (or two) of ice cream, a sappy chic flick, hell even a goody bag filled with candy to get you through the next day...you get the point.  And sometimes, it's even okay to feel as though everyone else but you can live a carefree life without a worry in the world.  The danger occurs when you don't resurface and you tread in the waters of comparison, which is exactly what my co-worker was doing.

I have been on both sides of this spectrum. I have been the one to compare (Oh you're going to a funeral? Try going to 20 by the time you're 20. Oh you know someone with cancer? So do I. She passed away when I was 15). It's easy to be this person. To be the one who thinks everyone else has it easier. To think you're the only one with the fabulous luck of the Irish. To latch onto the "of course this would only happen to me" attitude. Being the other person, however, often comes as a slap in the face. It sneaks up on you and bam!, out of no where someones asking you "Who do you think you are?! You think you have problems!?" This happened to me recently. Someone very near and dear to me said very matter of factly that her problems were of way more importance than anything I could possibly have going on in my life right now.

Is that so?

Maybe. Maybe not.

But what's the benefit of letting ourselves sink so low as to compare our problems to those of others.  You don't win if you have more troubles than your best friend. Your life isn't of more value or importance based on how many problems you have. Perhaps when we stop comparing and start listening, we (myself included) will realize we're not alone and that we can lean on each other to get through the tough times. Sadly, this world is in such short supply of this invaluable resource. Quality listening skills. Not hearing. But actually engaging our minds to listen to one another without having to talk over one another.

In the past few weeks I've had the opportunity (yes, the opportunity, not the obligation) to listen to several teenagers who came into my office to express some very personal fears and anxiety provoking issues. At one point one of the girls dismissively said, "I'm sorry. My problems must seem so small and stupid. You're so much older, your problems are probably much more important. I shouldn't be wasting your time." I quietly let her words sink in. At such a young and innocent age, this girl was already belittling her own personal woes. What, I wondered, is she going to do when she's experienced more that life has to offer? Sit in silence and never "bother" anyone with her feelings? I wanted to grab her and shake the absurdity out of her. Were her issues ones of life or death? No. Did they seem as significant as the constant battle my friend's brave two year old daughter is going through right now? No. But the fact that this teenager chose to open up to me meant that she needed someone to listen to her. She needed to know that she wasn't alone.

And so I put my own worries aside and listened. I didn't compare, I just listened. When she left my office later on, I knew she wasn't alone. Neither was I.

And maybe, just maybe, my co-worker needs someone to sincerely listen to her, as well.

the soundtrack to my life.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we had a soundtrack to our lives?" Kaitlin hopefully asked as she watched a Jane Austen movie this past Saturday. Even though I was immersed in yet another book and was tuning out the dialogue, I was still absorbing and enjoying the melody that transpired softly in the background. I sighed and agreed, taking a second to reflect on how intriguing it would be if we each had our own personalized soundtrack identifying with our every move throughout life. The truth is, while we don't have a unique playlist that accompanies the rhythm of our life, despite Pandora's attempt with its Music Genome Project, we can choose to identify with certain melodies, harmonies, lyrics, and vocals.  

As I made my hundredth effort to lighten my life and organize the catch all storage closet that barely closes this weekend, I came across a box overflowing with old pictures, journals, and cards permeated with nostalgia. Delicately, I picked up a journal I had not written in, nevermind even picked up since I tied the fraying string that sealed its cover over three years ago. I flipped through the dusty old thing, eventually stumbling upon a passage in which I wrote "I feel our society does its best to remind you of your heartbreak...constant 24/7 overly repetitive reminders that break you down and suffocate you from all angles. Where do these reminders come from? Music. After all, 'music is what feelings sound like (anon).' For the past month I've been hearing my feelings constantly." I was at an admittedly low point in my life, where a series of events had evoked more emotions than I knew I was capable of owning, let alone expressing. I was consumed with frustration, guilt, disappointment, and anxiety. While I had the support of some truly amazing friends, I still found myself turning to music, at times as a crutch to feel sorry for myself; other times as a ray of hope to pick myself up from the mess I had created. Certain lyrics spoke straight to my heart, as if the words existed solely for me. Looking back on this time, it's no wonder that it was so easy to identify with the songs that overflowed my playlist. I was the one selecting the songs. After a few months of wallowing in a ominous blue pool of depression, I grew tired of the burden that was weighing me down. So I made the choice to create a new path for myself without looking back. And with this, the soundtrack of my life changed for the better. As I surrounded myself with friends who brought out the best in me, the music that I gravitated toward lifted my spirits and renewed my soul. I was finding peace from within and learned to love myself again.



I recently made the choice to open that heavy door I so vehemently slammed shut three years ago. It opened with ease, as I found that time had healed my broken heart. I was finally ready to let go of the past, while able to relish in the beauty of the memories that resulted. The past had pushed me to find myself and in doing so, I embarked on so many adventures; some solo, some with newfound friends, and many with the fabulous friends and family I've already been blessed with. I didn't just step out of my comfort zone, I ran out of it with open arms, ready to explore all that life has to offer. I tapped into new interests; became more open minded, not only to myself, but to others, and in doing so, found an absolutely mesmerizing side of life I had been missing out on.



Quickly ascending to the top of my soundtrack for the past few weeks is Adele's increasingly popular Someone Like You. During times of solitude, the song is often on repeat, her words speaking volumes about my life experiences. "Regrets and mistakes are memories made." Surely these words can be interepreted more than one way -- to each their own -- but for me, the mistakes I've made, the regrets I've held onto and learned to let go of, created lasting memories and, more importantly, paved the path for more memories to fill my soul with. Because, isn't that the best part of life? Having memories to hold close to your heart, knowing that you've fully lived and soaked up all that life has to offer. How nice of music to remind me of this.



So as my mind drifts back to Kaitlin's wishful thinking, I know that music will never simply take a natural presence in the background of my life. But I also know that a life without music would be terrifyingly dull. Fortunately, I have the power to create my own soundtrack as I navigate through this crazy life. One that helps me through a heartbreak, provides serenity when sadness sets in, complements my happiness, or simply combines the perfect melody and vocals to feed my soul. And for this I am forever thankful.

the little green book.

"Everything is going to be OK," the cover of my recently acquired book whispered to me as tears trickled down my cheek. "Everything is going to be OK."

I first stumbled upon this book at a teensy tiny boutique tucked away in the Marina District of San Francisco a few months ago. I immediately fell in love with the concept of the book; the use of art and simple words to serve as reminder of the power - and beauty - of optimism. Tight on money (as the bank of Courtney always is), I only purchased one copy, and bestowed it upon a darling cousin of mine, who I was absolutely certain would appreciate the celebration of inspiration and happiness offered by this book.

A few months later, I found myself idly perusing the shops of Detroit International Airport, hoping to make the time between my flights go by just a tad quicker. Nestled amidst a Starbucks, McDonalds, and your standard airport convenience store was a humble little shop that couldn't be more out of place than if it were in the middle of a football stadium. Its whimsical knick knacks and sundries apparated me from the hustle and bustle of the airport to a place more befitting to a scene in Alice in Wonderland. It was just what I needed to lighten my mood and brighten the gloomy day that taunted me from the vast windows lining the terminals. Longing for more inspiration to shake me out of my funk, I saw a familiar little green book staring at me. Its bold white letters practically screamed to me, "Everything is going to be OK." Without hesitation, I plucked the book off the shelf, made my purchase and tucked it securely away in my carryon.

I keep the book by my bedside, propped up like a picture frame, its simple presence a gentle reminder to embrace all that is positive in my life. I often find myself flipping through its pages, absorbing the powerfully candid words that break the cycle of my hectic days, allowing me to come up for a breath of fresh air. I am reminded to "be present everyday" and that "things are looking up." I read that "it is okay for me to have everything I want." There are days when I thumb through every page and then there are the days when I flip directly to my favorite quotes.  Some words are more empowering than others, some more humorous, some more sentimental; but all of them speak to straight to my heart.

So as I sit here tonight, with tears trickling down my cheek, I once again turn to my book. The little go-to bible for a 20 something year old girl, lost in a little place called life. I read through the book once, then a second time for good measure. And deep down in my soul to the farthest depths of my heart, I can just feel that everything will be OK.

the stranger on the plane.

What is it that you're doing over there, the intrigued passenger next to me questioned. Listlessly, I replied that I was writing and continued to punch away at my keyboard. This didn't seem to satisfy him and he tried again. Impatiently, I glanced up to see why this complete stranger was so interested in me when, quite frankly, the interest was clearly not mutual. My eyes shifted from the glare of my computer screen to a tanned face framing a pair of deep, mysterious eyes. Immediately, my eyes drifted down to his left hand, and I quickly thanked God that he was wearing a wedding band. I wasn't in the mood to be hit on by a 50 year old. I politely explained that I had recently joined the bandwagon of blogging. Puzzled, he said "blogging?" Doing my best to avoid the automatic roll of my eyes response that is triggered when I'm agitated by someone, I explained what blogging was. Then, in a hasty attempt to adhere to social etiquette, while keeping the conversation snappy, I went through the obligatory introduction process, hoping that my computer could have my undivided attention, sooner rather than later.


After five minutes of chatting, I succumbed to the fact that there was no hope of returning to my blog. My newest companion couldn't seem to stop talking and I simply didn't have the heart to cut him off. The more he talked, the more I realized there was something different about this complete stranger, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. There was something about him that seemed so...lost, yet so hopeful all at the same time. There was a certain urgency in his voice, a compelling need to continue conversing with me. Before I knew it, he was unravelling a tangled story of sadness, anger, frustration, and guilt. His perfectly healthy brother-in-law was killed two days prior in a freak accident a mere two hours after he had spoken to him on the phone. I didn't know what to say. I barely knew this person. He barely knew me. What could I possibly say to help this helpless stranger. Finally, I understood the sadness in his eyes, the pain in his face, the confusion in his mind.  Despite my most valiant efforts to dig deep into my soul to find the perfect words to soothe him, I couldn't formulate a
sentence. So I listened. And amidst my interjections of "I'm so sorry" and "oh my goodness, how terrible," he continued to pour his heart out to me. Slowly, the urgency in his voice dissipated, replaced by a wave of calmness. With less desperation in his voice, he acknowledged that he wasn't much of a writer himself, but was still curious if I received any benefit from writing. Ahhh, so this is why he was so intrigued when he saw me furiously typing away. Making up for my prior loss of words, my whole face lit up as I explained how incredibly therapeutic writing can be for the mind, body, and soul. The act of writing transports me light years away from reality, allowing me to open up my mind and channel my deepest, innermost thoughts and feelings out of my body onto a piece of paper (...or computer screen) in a brilliantly constructive conglomeration of words. When I write, I'm able to examine all of the things that plague my mind, allowing me to think more clearly and understand life as I know it just a little bit more.  As I talked away, it dawned on me that the therapeutic benefits I reap from writing are perhaps the same benefits this man was gaining from simply talking to me.  This man needed someone. Right then and there. He needed the warmth of a human voice to subdue the pain and anguish that was torturing him inside. He just needed a person who would listen to him as he questioned the meaning of life and the complexities of death. He needed to be able to talk freely to someone who wouldn't judge his complaints about the unfairness of this crazy ride we call life. He needed to put his vulnerabilities on the line and let his guard down. He didn't specifically need me. I just happened to be the person Orbitz.com placed next to him on a flight from Atlanta to Philadelphia.


And so this person turned to me. As much as I tried to remain strong and not let the sadness of this man and his story permeate into my heart, I could feel the tears forming. It doesn't take long for the floodgates of my seemingly never ending supply of tears to open, and I was quickly reaching my breaking point. One by one, the tears slowly slid down my cheeks, meeting the edges of my mouth, their saltiness tantalizing my lips. Collecting my thoughts, I turned to him and slowly offered him my insight. The truth is there is no reason for freak accidents. These types of things can happen to anyone at anytime, anywhere. We are all vulnerable to life and death. And as much as we yearn for a reason as to why certain things happen and certain things don't, we'll never know for sure. The only thing we can do is accept life when these unfortunate and tragic events are bestowed upon us. It is up to us to find the courage to move upward and onward. I then reminded him that it's  even possible to extract something positive from this untimely, tragic accident. The death of his brother-in-law served as an unexpected reminder to me and, now to you, my "audience" of how fragile life truly is.  How lucky was I to be on a flight home to the happiness of my family, when this man was flying home to the sadness of his. How fortunate was I to be the person this man chose to open up to. I wouldn't have known this person from the next random guy in the airport, but for whatever reason, we were seated next to each other on an airplane packed with dozens upon dozens of people. And for that I am truly thankful. 


As the plane taxied down the runway, the man graciously thanked me for listening. I assured him that I was incredibly grateful to be his airplane companion and that my thoughts and prayers would be with him and his family.


Later on that day, I still couldn't stop thinking about my flight home. A flight that was supposed to be dedicated to blogging turned into a story that I will forever hold near and dear to my heart. A complete stranger was able to provoke my emotions in their rawest form. The horrific death of someone I never knew had not only affected his family, friends, and loved ones, but me - a complete stranger.