Four and Ten, Ten and Four

We beat Sewanee 3-0 on Friday, went to Ghost Roast feeling elated, and returned to our beds on Saturday for some much needed sleep.

Today I’m feeling euphoric. I just walked back into my apartment, set my senior gifts down, put my roses in a vase, and now I’m relaxing and basking in our 4-0 win over Centre. Winning today marks the first time we’ve beat Centre in program history, it also brings our record up to 10-4.

If you know anything about the Hendrix Field Hockey Team, you know that we have worked exceptionally hard to build up our program. We’re five years old. We’ve made Hendrix history in some way, shape, or form every year I’ve been here. My first game freshman year marked the first win for our program. EVER. We beat Earlham 3-0 in Kentucky and we beat Sewanee for the first time. Last year we beat a nationally ranked team and our record was much better than the two years previous, we were 6-10 overall. Now, as a senior, I walk off of the field beating a team in our conference we had never defeated and I’m fairly certain we are ranked second in the SCAC standings.

I’m not taking anything away from our previous team, we worked hard, we did well, but I sure as hell hope that next year the team does even better. There are a lot of firsts that people get to experience in their lives. Not many get to witness the growth of a sports team, especially in such a short period of time. I’m looking forward to two wins next weekend. For now, though, I think it’s important to consider that my freshman year our record (without conference championships) was 4-10 and now, senior year, we’re 10-4. I could not have more pride in my team at this moment.

I have been truly blessed by field hockey; by the fans, by my teammates, by the roller coaster that is being on a college level sports team. I cannot wait to see the future of HDX FH. Leaps and bounds, my friends, leaps and bounds. Well done, Warriors.

I'm a walking contradiction.

Oxymoronic, if you will. Please pardon me as I peruse an endless line of shelves looking for something to relate to. I hate the word relate but I search for it with a fervor that sometimes becomes disturbing. I hum a gentle tune as I attempt to find myself within the lines because I cannot find myself in the world. I type on my computer with the gentleness of a melody, a pianist praying Let them see my heart. But I’m not putting on a show and no one is clapping or laughing. And the only gasp I hear is my own with the tears that come because I’ve connected with yet another fallacy of the imagination. The heart that someone else put on the page. A character.

There is beauty in lines. I see it every day in the stories in my head that never quite turn out on paper. Yet there is one I keep rewriting, never the same yet ever the same. I want to touch someone’s life. I want an endless story, not another sad Sinatra song.

I’m starting a new chapter and it’s scary and exciting. I don’t want a “happily ever after” but a song sung with passion. It’s a satisfied kind of longing. It’s a devastated excitement. And I cannot help but wonder if I’ll touch the world like them. The tears that keep me smiling are the stories they’re still writing…

So please pardon me as I search these lines to find myself.

the books that line my shelves

I have these friends.

These friends that I love with all of my heart.

That I have compared to my favorite authors.

But they are so much more than the books that line my shelves.

In attempting to write letters to each of these beautiful women I have had to reflect. Had to may be a strong phrase but I haven’t wanted to look back on everything. That means my time with them is over. And to some extent this is true. But I can say that I have loved. I can say that I have the most amazing friends a girl can ask for. This is not goodbye. This is we won’t be living together anymore and that makes me sad. This is I’ll see you later and I will cherish you and our friendship forever. This is “I do believe I have been changed for the better” and “because I knew you,” because I know you, “I have been changed for good.”

To my best friends,

There are great things in store for you and I am so excited to see where life is going to take you. Expect letters soon. But no worries, I’m not saying goodbye.

I love you. Always,

Laur

“Maybe it’s sad that these are now memories. And maybe it’s not sad. And maybe it’s just the fact that we loved, and this was the time we could spend.” – The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Dear Julie Andrews

I’ve often thought of what I would say if I were ever to meet Julie Andrews. She was on my list of four people I would like to have dinner with on my college application, along with Emily Dickinson, Freddie Mercury, and William Shakespeare. The two words I wish to convey to her are not of her amazing talent (which is indeed undeniable), but of gratitude. Thank you. That is all.

Thank you.

I was watching Thoroughly Modern Millie last night and was startled as I wiped a tear from my eye. I hear her voice and I think of my grandmother, not as an ill stricken woman who has lost her memory, but as my grandma. I tried to remember how many times we watched The Sound of Music and she had to get up to change the video in the VCR. I tried to recount how many times I had to get up and change the video in the VCR once I learned how.

I couldn’t count.

Of course I couldn’t count. I couldn’t tell you how many times we watched that musical in one week. I couldn’t tell you how many times grandma said that Charmian Carr never starred in anything else that involved singing after The Sound of Music and it was a shame. Or that the Baroness’s hair was not naturally blonde and that she was wearing a wig (whether true or not she said that every time).

I hear Julie Andrews’ voice and I perk up. I recognized her in Shrek after the first word the queen uttered. I knew she was reading in Enchanted the second the book opened at the beginning. I saw Despicable Me and almost had a heart attack because I was taken aback, not expecting her voice to randomly pop in. I have everything from the televised version of Cinderella to Mary Poppins and The Princess Diaries. I have my grandma to thank for my love of not only Julie Andrews, but of musicals and dancing (even though I cannot dance to save my life). But there’s still someone to thank for helping me remember that even though she doesn’t say it anymore, and even though she cannot remember my name or my birthday, or Julie Andrews, my grandmother loved me very very much, just as I love her.

I have not gone to see her since the last time she could not remember my name. She’ll look at me and smile, but it’s not the same. There’s no knowing behind her eyes and she doesn’t reach for my hand anymore. Girls always have dreams of their grandmother being walked down the aisle at their wedding, or at least I did. But that would merely confuse her. I wanted her to see me grow up. I wanted her to come watch me play field hockey in college even though the rules are complicated, I wanted her to see that I’m a descent player and that even though I don’t sing anymore I still come home and join the choir for Christmas Eve. I want her to know, I want her to remember. I want her to be here. But she can’t and she won’t so I have to struggle to keep a memory of the good times we had in sight, of the things she taught me; like the love of music and Julie Andrews.

Dear Julie Andrews,
Thank you for the memories. Thank you for helping me remember.

My Rose

Mom gave me Grandma Ray's engagement ring and my heart skipped a beat. It's beautiful. Grandma and Grandpa had two small stones placed around the original for mom's 21st birthday and now she has given me the ring for mine.

Grandma and I were always close. I stayed with her every day when I was younger. She introduced me to musicals and Frank Sinatra. She taught me not to pick my nose and that sitting too close to the television was bad for your eyesight. She gave me glass bottles of coke as a treat and always allowed me to dress-up in her clip-on earrings with hats that never quite fit. She would shop with us on the weekends because she couldn't drive and she and mom would take turns buying me sugar cookies from the place with the big red sign.

This is how I remember her, with an afghan that was brown and black and a recliner she would let me sit in, with grey curly hair and huge obnoxious but awesome glasses. She was mine. And I was hers.

I love my grandmother very very much.

I cried when mom gave me the ring because it reminds me of who she was before. Before this illness stole her. Before she forgot my name and that I sing because she taught me to.

With this ring I'll remember her. With this ring I'll pass her memory on to my daughter who will do the same. They may not know her, but she will be remembered. She may not remember me, but I will always remember her.

cause I'm a warrior and always will be

Instead of writing the paper, doing the lab report, or studying for the test I have Friday I find myself writing. I haven’t wanted to write. The sensation feels funny because I have been scared to write, to put what I am feeling into words.

Senior weekend. So much stress but it was worth every second to see the girls I care for like sisters smile. I choked back tears as Brian read. I was doing really well until the last two. Heather stepped up and then Ali. I have been blessed to play with an amazing team, an unstoppable, beautiful team. I have played next to my best friends, fought with every fiber of my being and win or lose I have felt fingers grasp the empty spaces between mine and I have experienced tears, laughter, encouragement, and friendship. The last three years have been an incredible ride.

I know I’ll cry. Next year I’ll get back to Hendrix and step on that field with a heavy yet excited heart. Warrior field will always be our turf, where we won the first home game Hendrix field hockey had ever seen, where we lost to DePauw in double overtime on senior day. The memories will always remain. I will always carry my teammates in my heart. Next year will be hard. I know and I look forward to the challenge. For now, though, I want a victory. I want our team to take conference because this is our time and none of us are going to stop fighting. Our team has come so far, we have fought incredibly hard, we can make this happen. If anyone can make this happen, we can.

finding the line

“On the line” is one of the most terrifying phrases an athlete can hear when playing a team sport. One of two things will happen; either you will run, or you will run a lot. Either way you have to make the choice to finish; to push yourself.

There is a hole deep in the pit of my stomach.
Not fill-able.
Not something that feels like it will go away or stop.
I don’t feel wanted.
Sleep escapes me.
Nightmares ensue.
I am tired.
I do not feel whole.
More than anything I want to feel whole again.

I feel like I was sprinting and fell face first. I want to get up, keep running, but I don’t feel ready. I feel broken. I’m working my way back to the line and sometimes I think that is harder than actually running; convincing yourself that you can run.