memorial day. in my own words.

Who am i, really?
a year ago, this blog didn't really exist. i am going to have to change the title from "tales of a first year unofficial Spanish teacher in northeastern Arizona" to something else, something that "Defines me." I realized something today...
I am hopeful. Sometimes I am hopeful to a fault, but I am hopeful.
For example - Like Hannah, I hope to have a child. or several. Not just "spiritual children;" there's nothing wrong with that, but there's just something about being able to say "this is my child." Even if you have to give it up quickly - I cannot imagine how much Hannah had to go through...wow.

So I am going to write about memorial day. Through the eyes of a hopeful individual.
In my very own words.

What is memorial day?
Sure, it's about remembering our amazing armed forces and all the military people for choosing to serve our country and keep us safe, but...
to me, it's so much more.

A day to reflect, to ponder, to remember.
what do those words even mean?

people gone, people absent, people far away...
i remember them. sometimes not always but still.
little things -
smiles, hugs, gestures,

words
kind words
encouraging words
scalpel-like precisionate words
angry words that i try to forget
buliding blocks
words that hurt and heal both and yet.
yet these words still remain, lingering around my head.
and i remember them
(not just the words, but the people that uttered them).

everything else possible to remember, i remember.
smells - certain smells
boy smells
people smells
dressed-up smells
working smells
the smell of a flea market on a Saturday early afternoon
smells after a rain or snow reminiscent of muddy christmas trees
the smell of white-out drawings on my teacher desk :)
smells of coffee at church

and voices.
bass voices suddenly resonating behind me in church
little voices serenading me, looking for me from across the room.
grown up voices approving and disapproving of who i am
voices voicing their frustrations to me, a giant ear ready to listen
friendly voices welcoming me wherever i am.

All these I remember, and more, in my own "Memorial Day."
Thank you for being part of who I am.

the voices of my friends, my little brothers, their laughter,