perspective

The Vault

The word vault came up in a conversation recently while I was visiting with the girls in the park one Sunday afternoon. Of course the visit was 6 feet away but it was a much needed time together for a group that missed each other immensely during the corona pandemic. Fresh air. Freedom. Fun with friends. Some of my favorites things in one place.

When the word was said I immediately thought bank vault. Where you store the gold blocks as you see in the bank heist movies. Then I drifted a bit in my mind and thought of the vault in track and field competitions, aka pole vault. Two different meanings of the same word.

In the conversation the vault was referred to as a memory bank as in your brain. The short- and long-term memories we all have and where they are stored, filed away or compartmentalized. The good, the bad, the ugly. All of the above is in essence in each person’s vault. We each have the ability to store, re-engage, or erase the items in our vault at our sole discretion. The power we have with such an important storage facility. Will this memory bank give us strength and comfort or does it provide stress we keep holding on to?

As I drifted off thinking about this word, I knew a post would be forthcoming as soon as I had moment to write. What’s in my vault? What do I re-engage and what do I purposely disconnect? So much to think about. So much power and will. Is this emotional intelligence?

That makes me wonder what is in others’ vaults. Is there happiness? Is there sadness? Is there emotional stress? Is there financial baggage? Everyone has skeletons in their closets or maybe I should say skeletons in their vaults. We all have the choice of when we open the vault, who we share the keys to our vault with and if we ever use what’s in the vault to provoke others.

As I was writing this I drifted many times into thoughts of the word vault and its variables. I thought of many trips to churches over my life and the powerful vaulted ceilings I saw over the years. The detail. The power. The design. What does my vault look like inside my brain? Clearly it’s my design but is it unique, is it an architectural dream or is it made of inferior material?

I actually know what my vault looks like in my mind. I know if it’s easily accessible or not. How many people have a secure vault and how many don’t? That’s more of the mystery to me but I’m a people person and I am genuinely intrigued by the complexity of humans.

I will ponder thoughts over my vault for days I am sure. I will be curious of the contents of others’ vaults around me as well. It may be the contents of said vaults that cause poor responses in times of challenge or struggle. Since we are in the midst of a pandemic I just thought I’d share this word and possibly my wisdom or rant regarding it.

The word vault. The mystery. The memories. The mind fuck. That’s the vault in my eyes.

friendship

Flashback Friday

Circa 1988, parking lot hangouts. That’s where you would find me and my hoodlum friends on the weekends. No cell phones back in the day. If you had a car you huddled up in random parking lots and made plans for the night from car window to car window. Maybe it was adventures or maybe you were sitting at the beach people watching, strutting your stuff in your tricked out ride or crushing on your main squeeze.

Now that I painted a picture of my younger days, I am going to fast forward to corona 2020 and a new a kind of parking lot rage. One I can’t take credit for but need to give it a test drive. Two cars, two chicks, windows down, talking up a blue streak, giggling from 6 feet away. Enjoying some sunshine, some shades, blue skies and topped it off with Starbucks.

Talk about about an irony. Thirty plus years difference. Technology exploded during that time and as of two months ago people would text away for a social connection yet today we screamed nonsense out the window at each other just for a human connection. Crazy what solitude does to people but how fun to take a walk down history lane.

I’m wondering how many others out there had their own parking lot hangouts back in the day or even today?

When chatting it up we thought about what the hot topics were back in 1988. I would definitely be having chats about who’s hot, what car they drive and what’s up this weekend.

Chick 2 said she was studying for her SATs or something nerdy to pass time, waiting on the good old land line to ring. She might have even had a rotary phone for those of you who know what that is. Maybe that’s why the phone didn’t ring.

Then we talked outfits. What would Chick 1 be wearing? The conclusion was: high waisted acid washed jeans, big ass hair with Aqua Net spray in it, and a polo shirt of some sort. Chick 2 in contrast was skipping around in her Catholic school uniform. Pleated plaid skirt, high knee socks, saddle shoes and a pastel blouse that her mother ironed.

How could two chicks be more polar opposites? And this is why we have totally different storytelling abilities. Chick 1 was a sports freak in 1988 and Chick 2 was a band geek, again noting their differences.

What’s your story and when are you going to write it?

family

The Fog Rolled In Fast

It was a Friday night. A little chilly but tolerable. An outdoor event was on the agenda. All seemed normal until the riveting phone call shattered the ambient air.

A different kind of chill entered the air. A painful chill. A sudden chill. A heartfelt chill. A family member passed that chilly night.

Our beloved Axel the husky was killed tragically when he escaped from a fenced yard. A runner by design but loyal friend to the end. Axel was smart, fluffy and a joy to be around. He was the runt of the litter when we got him, overbite and all. He was just perfect for us.

Like most families we are less than perfect thus a pup with an overbite would fit right in. The breeder said don’t you want to pick a different one? Nope he was the one that we thought was special. We all loved him in an instant.

Year after year he played dress up and entertained the kids shenanigans and photo shoots. Pretty sure he made his way into many tiktoks over the years and he was always photogenic.

Axel never met a stranger. He was well-mannered but affectionate. This tragedy has left me in a fog since I found out about his fate. I can’t turn back time but I can honor his memory.

Axel was a therapy dog for one of my kids. He comforted him when rough times were upon him and he provided companionship when it was time to play. Dogs just know what their humans need.

Every time I run and want to quit, I would think Axel is running along side me in heaven and he wouldn’t quit. When I’m sad like I am now I will flip back in my photo reel and smile and say those are tears of joy not sadness as we had many good years and memories together.

When my family is sad I will support them as we work through this tough time together. The hurt will pass in time but I am forever thankful for my memories.

I do have other pets to help me soothe my sorrow because they know when their human is sad. I am grateful for this but anyone who has dealt with a tragic death knows all to well the ripping from ones arms is so very different than the death of somebody aging.

Unplanned. Unexpected. Unwanted. Those are the ugly U words that come to mind today as I sit in fog holding onto to memories. Say a prayer for my pup in doggy heaven as he chases squirrels or whatever he so chooses to chase. You will be missed Axel!

These bold blue eyes will forever be visible in our hearts. 💞 As with any loss of a family member one must mourn. This post has been sitting for a bit until I was ready share and honor his memory. Lost but not forgotten.