Tag: growing up

feelings

happy birthday, sister J

abby mumford

january is a big month for the mumford kids, as we ALL have our birthdays this month. (don’t even think about making an inappropriate joke about my parents here.)

TODAY happens to be sister J’s birthday.

she’s two years older and light years wiser, so there’s no way for me to wish for her what i had on my 33rd birthday because i’m not 33 yet. i don’t know what that year will hold for me, nor do i know what this year will hold for her. sure, i can guess at a few of the big events, like say, introducing bubba mac to the family in march (or february or whenever he decides to make his appearance) or moving to a new location, but the small, daily events that shape the days that make up the year?

i don’t know what form those will take.

i certainly hope they’re full of laughter and love and baby steps and no allergies and cards and holding hands and hugs and phone calls and family dinners and siblings who get along and darla and patience and tough love and independence and snuggling and giggles and growing up and quiet moments and loud bursts and tears of joy and quick recoveries and prayers and books and sunshine and mommies and daddies and new faces and familiar voices and kisses and journeys and learning.

because those are the moments that force their way into your heart so that you are never the same, but better, bigger, stronger, and more capable.

i guess this year’s version of “happy birthday, sister J” is a wish that year 33 reshapes her heart.

 

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convos with strangers

conversations with strangers #15

abby mumford

strangers? talking to them? yes, sir.

i placed my to go order and headed over to the four available chairs to wait. there was a girl in one of the chairs, so i sat at the other end. this, however, placed me about 12 inches away from a couple eating their appetizers.

as easy as it would have been to join their conversation, that’s particularly rude and i don’t count that among my personality traits. i opened my magazine and commenced waiting.

*time passed*

girl employee to other girl employee: “is there an abby here?”

other girl employee to girl employee: “yes.”

i perked up and started to gather my things as they called out my name.

they handed me my dinner and there was a flurry of action behind the counter, but the girl made no move to ask me for money. before she questioned why i was lingering, i offered up my reason for doing so: “i never paid for this.”

girl: “oh wow, thanks for being so honest. most people would have just walked out without paying.”

me: “seriously?” i forked over my cash. “that’s insane.”

girl: “yeah, well. they would. they do. anyways, enjoy your food.”

me: “thanks. have a good night.”

i left pondering the possibility the girl had proposed. would most people really have left without paying? it never even occurred to me to do so, and in fact, i felt embarrassed the girl had to thank me for doing the right thing.

just then the steam from my meal rose up around me and my stomach growled. i stopped thinking and started walking faster because on a chilly winter night, a hot meal sure is better than a cold one.

feelings

the change monster

abby mumford

sitting in the house which sits in the town which houses the high school i went to, i’m struck by all the things that have changed since i graduated. new faces (BFs, GFs, husbands, wives, babies), new cars, new clothes, new developments, new responsibilities, new money, new conversations, new roads, and new jobs have expanded and enriched my life and my relationships, and i can’t help but wonder in what ways am i different and in what ways am i still the same?

i’m still shy, but around those who know me best, there are often times when they can’t shut me up.

i’m still athletically inclined, but instead of two hours practices six days a week, i’m lucky to hit three miles three times a week.

i still love to read and i still sneak it in anytime any place.

i still adore children, but the more i learn about childbirth, the more freaked out i get. (holy cow, women are amazing and brave creatures.)

i still dream of being a writer, but now my daydreams are interspersed with the hard work needed to get there.

i have more responsibilities, more bills, more memories, more family members and more friends, but how much of my core self has changed? how much of it should have? i have different habits and different focuses, but i’m still bad at math, still bound to get hopelessly lost, and still fiercely loyal to those who work their way past my armor. two of the three of those would be nice to get better at, but if i put all my energy into learning my times tables (ha, kidding, i totally know 7 x 8 is 56), maybe it’d take away the spare moments i have to catch up with friends and family and is that really worth it?

can we ever completely change? is that really necessary? is it possible to fix your flaws while maintaining your essence of good? how do we decide what needs to change and what’s okay to remain the same? how do you know which is which? is it all trial and error?

will i ever like pineapples?

i obviously don’t have the answers, just the questions. if you’ve got some answers, go ahead and share. please and thank you.

convos with strangers

conversations with strangers #14

abby mumford

talk to strangers? yes, indeed.

i was checking my mailbox when a neighbor walked into the apartment lobby. (this is a rare occasion because even though i have a very normal working schedule, it appears none of my neighbors do. i’ve probably run into two people the entire six months i’ve been here.) my initial reaction was to keep to myself and not bug her with any questions, but then my blog popped into my mind. i’ve been conversing with strangers (okay, fine, so what if they’re usually service people and they have to talk to me) for months now, this is it! time to take the training wheels off!

me: hi, have you lived here long? (*thinks to self* “hmm, slightly creepy opening. remedy it quick.”)

me again: i’m abby. i’ve been here since may.

her: *smiles* i’m [name redacted to protect the innocent]. i moved here in september.

me: i’m apartment [redacted].

her: i’m number [redacted].

me: oh, we must share a wall or something.

her: i bet we do. you’re very quiet. i never hear anything.

me: let me know if you do!

her: likewise.

the rest of the conversation revolved around our landlord, his response time when dealing with issues, and the things we did/didn’t like about our new places. i highly doubt my landlord or neighbor would ever read this, but just in case, it’s probably in my best interest to keep things vague.

and the real point here is that i did it!!! i initiated a conversation with a true stranger and the world didn’t end. nothing bad happened. in fact, good things came out of it. i met my neighbor. she was very nice.

and now the apartment building feels a teensy tiny wee bit more like home.

feelings

be brave by veronica roth

abby mumford

i seem to be happening upon a lot of articles recently about how peoples’ brains work. this one on fear by veronica roth is borderline genius and took an indescribable amount of courage not only to write but to post for the whole of the interwebs to view. it’s important (for me right now) because i need to be brave in writing, in life, and in going to sleep*, so i’m hoping to take a page out of her book (tee hee).

read it.

that is all.

*things i never thought i’d say: sleeping is hard to do (when you’re the only one in the apartment.)