Pros and Cons of Swimming

A few weeks ago, in a conversation regarding blogs, someone mentioned that I don't blog much about my time in Salt Lake. I blog about my family, about BYU, about my current happenings both planned and spontaneous, current events, snarky commentary, and a host of other things--but not too much about my year and a half in Salt Lake.

My natural inclination is to rebuff and excuse my behavior as events that have already been blogged don't deserve a recall. Where in a lot of cases that's true, I've also recently pinpointed the fact on why I leave well enough alone.

It's hard.

Delving into my time in Sugarhouse is opening a can of worms on memories I then can't suppress. I grow nostalgic for past times and people--and the general feeling of absolute love and acceptance that permeated our home. I had a rare opportunity to live with five of my closest girlfriends; it wasn't perfect, but we created this moment in time that's impossible to ignore. I hold it close because it's hard for me to explain. Ours was an exception to the rule of not living with friends--and these girls were my family away from home.

We always joked that our house should be a filmed documentary reality show. You wouldn't believe the experiences we had as we traveled from Vegas to Cancun, from Wyoming to NYC and back--you can't imagine and probably wouldn't believe what and how much we did. I'm not the greatest storyteller in the world, so I let those perfect memories sit in my head and marvel at the surreal moments we experienced together. As we began parting, Mel created a 22-minute video of photos and videos we took the year we were together, set to music that connected our experiences. I haven't watched it since I left Utah. I've wanted to, but it's never felt like the right time. I love everything about my life in Boston, but I think watching that video would break my heart.

Barely more than a year ago, we were all in Salt Lake. Now, we're exploring other places--Boston, New York, DC, Florida, and SLC. A year ago, I don't think any of us could have foreseen this time and place. We keep in touch the best we can; and I'm sure we'll always remain friends--the kind you can go months and years without seeing yet still get together and act as though no time has passed. But I don't want months and years to pass. When I stop, slow down, and remember how much I love, adore, and respect these women in my life, I don't want time to pass. I want us to be together. And that hurts my heart, because I know that season has passed.
I hold these feelings close to my heart, because they're important to me.

You know I love creating experiences--one thing you may not know about me is that I do it for purpose. Making memories, recalling them to mind and reveling in shared experience with those I love is perhaps one of my favorite past times. Once we're close, listen for the phrase, "Remember when _____?" I use it alot. In fact, I can have hours of conversation stemming from that phrase alone. You probably wouldn't guess that I can fall into a pool of nostalgia easily. I swim for awhile, get out and dry off; and take some of the lake home with me. Sometimes it's nice to be wet--sometimes, I shouldn't have been swimming at all.

If I never get near the water, I don't risk getting wet.