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feelings

secret santa

abby mumford

giving gifts is not something i take lightly. in fact, it’s quite an exhausting endeavor because in order for me to give a gift, it has to be good. it has to be meaningful. it has to make sense for the receiver. no generic stuff here. and so, yes, i find christmas to be a bit overwhelming with all the gifts i have to give at once, which is why i usually start planning what gifts i’ll give in october. that way i don’t have to rush and i can give each person not only the right gift, but a proper amount of time to figure out what said gift should be.

i’m in charge of organizing the sibling secret santa and doing so now means i’m just like all those major retailers who start decorating their stores mid-october. hopefully in a less annoying and bling-ed out manner. pumpkins and elves. the mash-up of holidays. family interlaced throughout. always family. always love. always laughter. always lucky.

i’m too liberal with my comma use. i use them to imply pauses, breaths taken. screw grammar. i’m living life on my own terms.

feelings

eureka

abby mumford

the day started as all weekdays do: hitting the snooze button one too many times and then, shower. hot water cascaded down and the thoughts piled higher than the steam. i pondered how many pastries to buy for brunch the next day and which open houses i should go to and how will i get there and should i drive or take public transportation to try and simulate my work commute and is my library book still on hold and should i go sunday or monday and oh wait, monday’s a holiday so they’re closed and that’ll be a good day to do homework and i hope the weather’s nice, but not too nice because i have to do laundry and then i blinked.

it’s friday.

not this upcoming weekend.

with an emotional crash, i was brought back to reality. i have to go to work. today. now. but, woah, that really felt like it was saturday and i was planning my weekend errands and holy cow, i just came back from the future. i invented time travel!

this is going to be a good day.

feelings

heavy

abby mumford

i said,” well, it never hurts to ask or to buy a lottery ticket.” he said, “i’ve got one right here on my desk. if i win, i’ll buy you a condo.” i said, “pinky swear.”

what do you do what you’re so full of wishing and wanting and hopes and dreams and goals that you’re anchored to the floor? how do you transition from thinking to doing? i can feel the clock ticking, each vibration signaling another lost moment, another second where my inactivity wins and my passions remain on hold.

fear. it is the time of year for that.

i downsized my usual starbucks drink from a grande to a tall. a small but necessary change in my battle to make healthier choices. the fight wages because i’m unable to work out like i used to (dang foot) which means the only option left is a diet overhaul. i’m beginning to listen to my body and it’s telling me something i’m putting in it is wrong. it’s causing its own war and as the battlefield and the soldiers, i’m left feeling sick and tired. i’m exhausted. i need to do my best sherlock holmes impression to figure out what the culprit is.

like the trees outside, i’m ready to fling my leaves and bare my soul. be gentle with me.

feelings

tuesday

abby mumford

it’s tuesday, but at noon, i’d only had two sips of my coffee and by three, i finally made it upstairs to grab my lunch. it might as well have been a monday.

sister E texted: “how have we not spoken since september?” i cringed at the day job work and school work and life work piled around me. it’s no excuse, but it is the reason. one of her favorite authors was speaking at my favorite local bookstore and books are our love language and i wanted nothing more than to go and take notes for her, but instead, i had to go and take notes at class. we settled for brief bursts of textual updates.

i called my grandmother after class, just like i do every tuesday. it was the first time i was still. my mind focused on bringing cheer to the call because that’s all she asks of me. that and to come out to CO for a visit. her voice crackles. i’m not sure if it’s the connection or her 93 years. she blames the “blasted phone.” every time.

“can you see the moon?” maga says. “it’s a great, big, full one tonight.”

i’ll sleep well tonight knowing we’re all tucked in under it.