Occasionally, as it did today, it will take me by surprise. I will be going about my business, insomnia, the works, and suddenly it will be 13 August, or 8 October.
My mother would have been 72 today.
You can never know the path your life would take, or the flaps of which butterfly wings led you to where you are. Here’s my pass.
For myriad reasons and random paths, the following are probably true. If you knew me then, and know me now, these won’t surprise you.
If my mother hadn’t died over 15 years ago I would not:
Be with Luke.
Have the depth and breadth of friendship that I have with Ben.
Have the depth and breadth of friendship that I have with David.
Have the incredible, unexpected, fantastic friendship I have with Ellinor.
Have the poignant, striking memories of my then-nascent, beautiful friendships with Karyn, Dan, and Kate.
Sing with a circus troupe.
Have Death Wish.
Have a near-crippling fear of losing the people I love.
Have a near-crippling fear of getting on a plane, or the people I love getting on a plane.
Have worked my ass off for this career that is becoming downright amazing.
Have worked with Coppola.
Be so incredibly comfortable with every facet of my eccentric, artistic, creative, oddly-thought-patterned self.
Have started taking aerials at 33.
Only ever be in competition with myself.
Sing at every moment, every chance, bring it into every aspect of my world.
Appreciate each of the people in my world to the point of bar-drunk “I love you’s” while sober.
Be wide open to the next journey.
Thank you all for being here; whether you love, or hate (both), or are annoyed by, or cherish, or all of the above, me. And, Mom, thank you for the gifts you gave me; then, and now.