The D-Word

This month marks one year of the d-word. This week marks what would have been four years of the m-word. My divorce has punctuated many unknowns in my life: Where do I belong? What makes me happy? Am I a Mets or Yankees fan? (Who am I kidding? I could care less. Go Longhorns!) On the other hand, it has brought unbelievable clarity to other parts of my life. It's like a spotlight that's flipped on just as the house lights go down.

Family.

It's not that a year ago I didn't know or appreciate the fantastic family I have. I don't think I quite understood it though. Oddly enough, as I was legally losing a family, I came to better comprehend what it is to be part of one.

Four quick stories that I've most likely already told (hey, I'm a Norris -- this is what we do):

Love Notes
Last Spring was a really lonely time. Becca and Graham did their very best to keep me busy post-work hours, but going home to my empty apartment was always a reality at the end of the day. Like clockwork, I would stop by the mailbox on the way in to gather what was generally a pile of junk. About once a week or so there would be a gem in the mail from my Aunt Jan. These simple, short, hand written love notes always had a way of saying exactly the right thing and arriving at exactly the right time. I'm not sure if I've ever told her how much those meant to me. I think I'll mail her a note.

Thirty-one Flavors
Graham and Rebecca invited me over for dinner the day the judge signed my divorce. When I arrived, Graham opened the freezer door to reveal an enormous number of ice cream pints. He wanted to be sure he was prepared with girl-feel-good food in case it was a rough night. It was one of the sweetest gestures I've ever received. Oh, and, Blue Bell was on sale. The Babins are always up for a deal.

Moving Van Madness
Dad has a sketchy history of driving Uhaul vans -- 1996. Hwy 35 and Riverside. Very close call. Everybody deserves a second chance though. Two weekends in a row, Dad made the trek from Houston to help me wrap up the final details of my move. He is the master packer, after all. He put up with my moving day crankiness, helped clean my apartment top to bottom, and even navigated the Uhaul down Hwy 45 (without incident, I should add). All for me to move half-way across the country from him. No daughter of year trophies for me anytime soon!

TRG TLC
I was really dreading my birthday last year. It fell in the middle of the week, so I was stuck in Dallas away from my family and frankly, had no plans beyond Pilates that morning. When I walked around the corner to my cubicle, I saw a trail of confetti down the hallway. A few steps further revealed what looked like Party City had vomited all over my desk. I was sung to, brought breakfast, taken out to lunch, and allowed to be gloriously unproductive. On a day that I was convinced would pass without notice, my co-workers made me feel enormously special. Only a couple of months later, they topped themselves with the best going-away party ever. They will always be the best in my book -- whether or not THD agrees.

I apologize for the handful of obscure references in this overly sentimental post. Please send all complaints to graham_babin@hotmail.com.

Looooove,
Les