joy slumbers on my bed

It seems my darkest hour is behind me. It was actually the whole month of October. I'm not a crier for the most part. I especially don't like crying in front of anyone. I saved most of my tears for late night, or the shower. But October left me crying morning, noon and night. Not for any reason. Just a wave of sadness would hit. No one had to say anything, or do anything. It just hit me like a tidal wave without warning.

I didn't realize I hadn't already been through the worst of it. I thought I was doing great. Staying strong. It wasn't hope keeping me strong, it was survival. I had to keep it together for the girls. Hope was overshadowed by need.

Hope was always brighter when it dawned from fear. Fear of failure. Fear of loss. Thankfully, I don't live in fear anymore. The worst has already happened. So I continue.

I open every door. I keep marching on. Sometimes joy hits me so hard, I feel like running.

After rappelling a breathtaking, 196 foot waterfall in Costa Rica, I enjoyed the passionate kisses of a 28 year old hot, hot Latin man. With our large group well ahead, we kissed. Our only witness, the spray of the waterfall we just descended. After that kiss, I ran, and I mean RAN up the 400+ foot rocky path. The guide leading the way was surprised I wanted to run it, so he ran. I arrived huffing and puffing minutes behind him.  We both smiled and laughed.

Andre, the gorgeous guy in his forties I couldn't help but notice, passed me half way and also met me with a smile. He didn't laugh when I arrived, he told me I started too fast and should've paced myself. Ugh! As if I don't already know that about myself mister! Andre is tall, smart, handsome, educated, athletic, never been married, no kids, great teeth, funny, I could go on. He sat with me at our very first sit down meal. His choice. My radar was on him. Mr. Latino literally came at me like a freight train. He escorted me to my room, to be sure my bags arrived safely. I opened the door and my breath was taken away with the view. An active volcano and floor to ceiling windows will do that to you. He made a noise that called my attention back to him, another grand view,  and he called the view beautiful, but said I was "wild beautiful" and before I blinked an eye he was right there, arms embracing me and already kissing me before I could truly comprehend. He was sweet and tender rough. So me! Not bad for a first kiss. Not bad for an older woman. Not bad at all.

Don't get me wrong, this trip wasn't about men in the slightest, or getting noticed at all. It was my trip to show the girls how we can enjoy life and trust that all will go well. Being kissed was not my mission. But when in Rome...

I only mention the age of Daniel because my radar guessed he was in his twenties. At my age, twenty-eight is a stretch, or so I thought. I was stunned to learn he even noticed me. Of course I noticed him, but the thought never crossed my mind. He was our guide, our Julie from The Love Boat. Plus, there was a super cute, super hot, twenty something girl on our trip. Why bother with the old lady? 

It wasn't Vegas, but I kept that door open. The kissing door is my favorite door. I don't remember ever kissing anyone as passionately as he and I kissed that weekend. That is saying A LOT. That kind of kissing usually leads straight to other things that distract you from kissing. But he loved that way I kissed him, and I loved the way he hugged me when he kissed me. I felt a little sparkly every night because of Daniel's affection. Like Tinker Bell herself sprinkled me with just a smidgeon of what's to come. It woke me up. I felt very alive. It was very surreal. It still is. I didn't even get his last name or contact info. Not a shred of him came home with me, other than a little glow I carried around. Fresh glow.  Until the last day.

On our final day in Costa Rica we went ziplining. This time sorrow socked me one. I felt so alive, and a little scared. Each zip was about a half mile long and although some were a little shorter, zipping along at 45mph for over a half mile above the rainforest overlooking an active volcano only reminded me of one place. My honeymoon. (I remember every time in my adult life I've had my breath taken away. In Hawaii, it happened so frequently. The aloha spirit one gets while there is a real fact). We zipped six times. I wept 5 of the 6 zips. Happy tears came at the very end, but mostly I wept sad tears, mad tears, high and dry tears, sobs of wet tears that dripped down my cheeks like rain. Everyone noticed. Everyone left me alone.

Joy and sorrow. Highs and lows. I know for a fact that while sorrow sits inside of me, joy slumbers on my bed.

And so I...

March on. Persevere. No matter how undulating the seas or crooked the path. I've nearly drowned in sorrow and most definitely jarred my brains with missteps.

I am reminded of H.W. Longfellow, “The dawn is not distant, nor is the night starless; love is eternal."