Inspired again by my dear friend Karen Pery, she has invited her readers to think about their lives. If given the opportunity to have glimpses of your life flash before your eyes, what would you see? She describes 8 windows, from the outside looking into your soul. I tried hard to think about things that were all nice and fluffy. But, honestly, not all my pivotal moments were great. Some yes, but not all. The moments that changed my life, the moments that would flash before my eyes if I was perhaps faced with death? Here is what I would see:

1. Riding my big wheel on the tennis courts when I was 5 years old. The plastic streamers, my royal blue tennies, red and white tube top and dove shorts. No cares in the world.
2. 20 years old, walking into the recovery room where my dad had just had quadruple bypass surgery. Seeing his scars, seeing him hooked up to machines was too much. I walked out.
3. Standing in Barnes and Noble. I called my then-husband and the other woman answered. I finally knew for sure. It was over. Walking out and into the parking lot I had my first out-of-body experience.
4. The moment Jason opened the door the first time we met. We had been talking for weeks on the phone, and I promised myself I would have no expectations when I met him in person. The look of such curiosity on his face was evident. My first thought that I remember so clearly was, “Oh shit. He's cute. I'm in trouble.”
5. My son's birth. Terrified, laying on the surgery table, smelling my burning skin as I was cut open to have him removed from my body. Thinking, “Shouldn't I be happy right now?” And feeling like the worst new mother ever for being furious about the way he was coming into the world.
6. On my son's first birthday, he woke up from a nap. I got him out of bed and sat down to rock him. He fell back asleep in my arms and I memorized his smell: Baby sweat and sunscreen. It was delicious.
7. About 30 seconds after my daughter was born, I broke down in tears. Fighting with my obstetrician about how I was going to give birth to her was more than I could handle. I was so happy that she was here, that she was in my arms, that she was healthy and that she was born the way I thought she deserved to be born.
8. Sitting at my dining room table with my beloved MacBook, writing any post of this blog. Crying, typing the words of the story of my past. Realizing how sad I was at times. And how I used to cope. The girl I was. The woman I've become. And the vulnerability of letting everyone see it.