Missing

The feeling of 'missing' is such a phenomenon to me. You can miss food, rainy days and sunny days, a certain song on the radio, and your first car or your favorite city. You can also miss a certain period in your life and your childhood. You can miss an emotional state of pure happiness. You can miss people-even the ones who didn't treat you well-and you can also be missed. When you miss something or someone, you have a sense of emptiness, like parts of you are incomplete. Sometimes, your feeling of missing something can distract you from daily duties, the sunshine, and even the really great things in your life. By missing someone or something, you might be missing something else.

See what I mean? Utterly complicated.

I've actually grown fond of the feeling of 'missing'. When I'm missing my hometown or my favorite cities, I'm reminded of the people I know there, the summer nights and winter mornings, and the parts of me I discovered in those places. When I'm missing a song I'm reminded of the emotions that the lyrics and melody brought. When I'm missing the rain or the autumn sun I'm reminded of the ever-changing seasons and how enjoyable I find each of them.

When I'm missing a person, or people, I'm reminded of how fortunate and blessed I am. I'm reminded of how much love I've been surrounded by. I'm reminded of the joy and support they've given me and hopefully the joy and support I've given back.

When I first moved, I missed my family by the truck loads. To go from living with them for the first 21 years of my life and then living alone was a feat in itself. Then, I went from living alone to living with roommates so, of course, missed having MY space and MY time. And for the past few months I have been missing a boy. My boy, to be exact. (And let's clear the air; he is a man. A very good, honorable man.) Practically, and truly, I miss him every day with an ache that could fill the Grand Canyon. I miss his laugh and the way he makes me laugh; I miss his smile and his kindness. I miss his companionship and his advice, and I miss him filling in the spaces of my life. And I've never missed a boy before.

Thank God for my people at A Total New You. Thank God for the women who kept me going, laughed at my silliness, encouraged my dreams, and kept reminding me, "This is just a stepping stone." And I believed that. I stayed put, I paid my dues, and I waited for the next stepping stone to be presented. But looking back, all of them meant so much more to me than a stepping stone. If I really did make a wrong turn or if I did pick the wrong route, I'd pick it time and time again. These women-and men-have drastically changed my character. They helped me survive a time in my life that wasn't horrible, but was full of questioning and searching.

I'd like to say that I am found. I'd like to think I'm taking a giant step in the right direction. But oh, how I'll miss each of you. I'll miss the 8a.m. 'how's-my-day-looking' calls, the sugar overload accompanied by carbs and calories, the overdone holiday open houses, the confusion from the mother-ship, the princess treatments, and the adoration. I will plain and simple miss you.

Melanie came to me this morning, and said, "You leave an impression everywhere you go. You are not fleeting. You leave a good mark on people's hearts. You are encouraging and uplifting. You need to go out and spread the love with other people."

So, that's what I'm doing. I'm leaving for a while to see what other kinds of trouble I can cause and what kind of marks I can leave. Plus, if I stay much longer, you might get sick of me. ;-) But this is not goodbye and this is not forever. I love each of you, very much and in different ways, and those of you-who know who you are-were made for me.

And I'll miss you with an ache that could fill the Pacific Ocean.