You Can Dance In A Hurricane, But Only If You're Standing In The Eye

Pixie dust is all over the house. It is hiding in the cracks of our hardwood floors and sprinkled on top of the dog and cats. All in Sookie's (ahem) Tinkerbell's, attempt to get everyone in the family thinking happy thoughts and flying on Halloween. In the rare hours we've actually been home this past week or so, I've been lounging in my sweats and my new favorite She believed she could, so she did tee. The chaos of celebrating Halloween has kept us busy with activities and fantastic memory making. It has been perfect in oh so many ways. Watching our girl delight in holidays is one of my very favorite things in this life.

When we see friends we haven't seen in awhile, the conversation ends up at Rory's accident in August. That night, the way everything happened so quickly, the things I would have done differently looking back now, the post traumatic stress that has plagued all three of us since. It was such a bizarre accident. He was so calm. Such a rock. He was the rock when I should have been. I'm still seeking the lesson in all of it. Although I did learn I'm horrible at being on the other side of the hospital bed. Something I will add to my improvement list of how to be a better human.

Rory gifted me with tickets to Brandi Carlile in August for my birthday. A highlight for me was when she performed a new song with the twins. It is called The Eye and sums up this summer so perfectly. Hearing the lyrics now, I am instantly transported back to that night. The wind rustling through the trees, the haunting harmonies of people who simply belong together making music, the powerful and simple beauty of the statements in that song: You can dance in a hurricane, but only if you're standing in the eye. Goosebumps.

And that is how I feel about this summer, and this whole year in particular. Standing in the eye of a hurricane, attempting to dance my thriving heart out as I see all of this upheaval happening with those I love dearly. There are the most beautiful and heartbreaking stories out there. Not all of them are mine to tell here. Then there's the metaphorical storm of my own path and this tremendous fork I've been standing at, looking to my left to crazy new shit option and to my right of same old shit road.

I think it is okay to forgive yourself for going backward sometimes.

This fall season has been outrageously special. I've felt good most of the time, decent at the worst. As a result I've taken advantage of the glorious now and jumped headfirst into every fall related activity available.