Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

If you're anything like me -- well, first of all, God love/help you -- but if you're anything like me you spend a lot of time bossing yourself around.

It's the "shoulds" that get me.

I just got back from a whirlwind trip to New York (lovely), following a few weeks of puppy-sitting (cuddly), which meant spending more time at her house than my own. So I've not been home much for what feels like a very long time.

I walked in my front door and before I got up the stairs, I'd thought to myself, "I should go to the grocery." "It's so nice out; I should go for a run." "I should do a load of laundry before it gets too late."

The grocery. Exercise. Laundry. Mmm, sounds like a party.

Oh, and while I'm at it, I should lose 15 pounds, get to work earlier, go to yoga three times a week and the gym twelve, volunteer, call my mother, learn French and Italian and conversational German, and then lose another 5.

How come I never say to myself, "I should sit on the couch and watch TV?" "I should crack a beer and put my feet up?" "I should get off my own damn back for a couple of minutes and relax and enjoy a little bit of life?"

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm hardly a slave-driver. I relax, a lot. Seriously, a lot. But it seems like, generally, we're so mean to ourselves. So hard on ourselves. I'm the worst offender -- if I ever heard any of my friends speak to themselves in the same tone of voice as my perpetual inner dialog, I would wag my finger and shame them for being ridiculous and unrealistic with their demands and their harshness.

So before my self-indulgence wears off and the self-inflicted to-do list reinstates itself, I'm going to raid the fridge -- which currently holds two beers and a string cheese -- open the door so some of this springness comes inside to greet me, and read a book while Mario Lopez fills me in on the important comings and goings of Hollywoodland.

I encourage you to do the same, instead of the laundry.

The United States of Tara

I'm up early today. I'm never up early.

And it's Sunday. I'm certainly never up early on Sundays.

It took me a few minutes to realize why I was distracted this morning. I let my mind wander -- over the things I need to get done, about what I should wear to church, whether or not it's ever, ever going to get warm again. I looked at the sunshine which (and you'll never catch me admitting this out loud) is always most special in the mornings.

And I smiled at my life.

A week ago, I celebrated one year back in Ohio, after almost a decade in New York. I'm still not sure why I chose that particular date, that particular time to realize it was time to come home.

And I thought, again, about one year back. Tara. Ahh, so that's what's on my mind.

One year ago today, my circle of friends lost one of our own. We found each other and reached out to each other and pulled in to comfort one another. We came together over Facebook and phone calls and a funeral. We reunited for the worst of reasons.

But... we reunited.

I'm a firm believer in silver linings. And my life, my tiny, inconsequential little life, looks a lot different than it did a year ago. I'm in a new city. I have a new job. I have a beautiful apartment all to myself and a group of funny, enjoyable friends. I have a dog curled up next to me who belongs to a pretty amazing guy.

Tara, you little magic maker. I know you've got your hands full up there, keeping track of everyone down here you loved, and who worshiped you in return. Hell, that crazy, wonderful, every-bit-as-spunky-as-you-ever-were sister must keep you on your angel toes 26 hours a day. It's bittersweet that Kristen is there with you. Who could have even thought it possible. But in some small way, my life looks different today because of you. Because of the people I'm lucky enough to know, who were lucky enough to know you. 

I really think Tara brought a lot of people together this past year, her first in Heaven. And I think she really would have loved that.

 Tara Lynne Scare, 10/23/74 - 04/03/10