Thankful and Stories

I cannot express how thankful I am for Sunday. It is the beginning of my week. (Yes, I know... it has been said it is the last day but quite frankly, I look at it as the beginning, the fresh start so to speak.)
It has been one of those whirlwind weeks where I didn't know up from down. So many new paths opened up and just as suddenly closed towards the end of the week. Not that it is any fault of mine or those around me but I do find it interesting the little glimpses we are gifted into paths and futures that could be.
Don't get excited now. There are no big announcements coming from me this week. No. I will just be renewing my desire to work on myself--becoming a better person and honing in on the person that I truly want to be.
I had a question posed to me this week--about what I want to "do". Now, that is a rather open-ended question so honestly I floundered with the answer and bumbled across the answer that I want to write. That I want to be me and maybe make a difference in someone's life. To do this, I keep the feelings and experiences that I go through fresh in my recollection. I really get it when people say things like, "I'm just working on myself right now." I get it. It's scary to not be fully sure of who you yourself personally are and also trying to throw someone else into the mix.
It aggravates me, sure, but I understand the concept. I also figure that is why I am where I am in life at this given moment. There are multiple things I need to work on and come to terms with within myself before a throw my crazy into anyone else's plans.
Back to the question, however, I posed it right back to my questioner and the answer, although it should not have, surprised me. "To be happy," they said.
It was simple. Boiled down to the very essence of what they wanted from the future. And in a way, I suppose that would be my answer too... I just have an idea, albeit a very hazy idea, but an idea no less of how I am going to achieve this happiness. And that, my friends, is by sharing my heart with those I cross paths with in this life.
Does my heart go unchanged through these interactions? Heavens, no. But I do hope that with every interaction, every mishap, every accomplishment, every sorrow, every joy...! That it is becoming stronger and stronger so that it might face whatever the Lord has in store for me in this life and the life to come.
I am thankful for this beautiful time of the year wherein we are brought into close quarters to escape the chilling weather of the outside world to spend time talking with one another and passing the hours in conversation, whether it be huddled on the couch in a mass of blankets or gathered around the table playing board and card games. I am thankful for the opportunity that I am blessed with to go back to home base, recharge in the close circle of my loving family. I am thankful for the relationships that I have to them and the joy with which we all look toward our reunions with at the end of the year.
I am thankful. And I would be remiss not to count these moments in my life as blessings whether it be times of momentously joyful occasions or stinging life lessons to apply now and to be relayed with the wisdom of hindsight to those I will come into contact with later.

Now for the little story-idea-blurb of the week... or day. Whatever the case may be... anyway. I started the following a couple days ago at work.



Letting out a long sigh, Mari pulled her blanket more closely about her shoulders. The fog of her breath on the window slowly dissipated once more to reveal the snowy scene outside. Cars passed by below, splashing slush along the road as the snow continued to drift from the clouds above. The mailbox was hidden from her vantage point by at least a foot of the down-like precipitation, the lamppost being warm enough to ward the accumulation thereof upon its own head. She looked on as a cozy couple walked past under a large umbrella, their breath fogging the air as they talked and laughed with one another. Closing her eyes to their felicity, she turned from the window to look at the sparse furnishings of her studio apartment.
Mari walked over to the thermostat and looking at the dial pursed her lips in debate. Payday wasn't for another week and she was already pushing it with her electricity and heating bill. She sniffed subconsciously, rubbing her nose with her blanket wrapped hand before moving away from the thermostat once more. If she couldn't afford to warm up her house, she could at least go somewhere warmer for the last hours before she would renege to sleep.
She pulled her worn riding boots on over her wool socks and shrugged into the pea coat her mother had bought for her the Christmas before last. She already wore her beanie over her brown braid and grabbing her keys from the small table beside her door, Mari locked her apartment and walked down the hall. Pressing the call button for the elevator, she swiped again at her nose. Rocking back and forth on her heels, she listened to the muffled whir of the inner workings of the elevator thinking she probably should have just taken the stairs.
She almost did just that when the cheery ding announced the box's arrival and the doors slid open. She managed a smile at the older gentleman who had already been riding the elevator. "Hey, Marty, how goes the maintenance?" she asked as he cast a smile full of whiskers in her direction.
"The usual, Miss Lowe. Ms. Partridge's thermostat got jilted again--thinking she had it set on 80 when it really was 'only' 70," he laughed, Mari hearing the amusement he had for the little old lady who thought 70 degrees called for a parka. "How about you? Where ya headed?" he asked, shifting to his other leg, his toolbox swinging with the movement.
"I thought I would head out to the bookstore," Mari admitted, swiping her nose again.
Marty's mustache became bushier as he puckered his lips knowingly but he didn't say anything for they had had that conversation plenty of times before this. He had offered to help cover her extra heating expense but knowing that he hardly lived a life of luxury himself, Mari had declined saying that her time spent in Canada had prepared her for this kind of living.
The elevator reached the main floor and they said their goodbyes, Marty continuing on to his apartment in the basement. Mari buttoned the top button of her coat before walking out onto the sidewalk, the wind sweeping a gently flurry of snowflakes about her as she turned right and started the walk over the next few blocks toward the bookshop cafe on the corner. She wouldn't be able to afford anything more than a small hot chocolate with her small bit of accumulated change that she had been saving up the last month.
"Desperate times..." she laughed to herself with a shiver as she finally saw the friendly glow of her destination. Pulling her coat a little closer around her and she pushed the last few yards before pushing the door open, bringing in a swirl of flakes with her as the little bell above her head jingled. As the door swung shut behind her, she took in a deep breath, the warm smell of books, cocoa and coffee beginning its soothing effect.
Walking up to the counter, she let her eyes wander. Not many people were out and about with such weather so it didn't surprise her that the usually populated seats were empty aside from a few otakus in their usual corner.
"Mari! I wondered if I'd be seeing you today," came a voice from behind the counter drawing her brown eyed gaze back to the barista's counter. The smile lit her face even more readily than when she had seen Marty.
"Hey Dean," she responded unbuttoning her coat and draping it over the back of her usual stool.
"Hot chocolate?" he asked, not even waiting for her to respond before he turned to the steamer.
"Just a small one today," she said slipping onto the stool. She caught the look he threw over his shoulder at her, his crooked smile as beautiful as always.
"Did you see the weather? There is no way I'm letting you back out into the storm without a properly sized drink," he chuckled pulling out the largest size of cups.
"Dean..." Mari said in exasperation causing him to turn to the bar and walk over holding his hand out toward her.
"Give me what you have and I'll make up the rest," he said, his green eyes broaching no argument. She pursed her lips but feeling the gaze of the otakus on their little scene she felt the blush rise as she reached into her back pocket for her wallet. Out of all the change, she had carefully kept count of (much of it pennies and nickles) she dumped it into her hand and held it out to him.
"I'm guessing it's two dollars," he smiled letting the change drop into his large hand before pocketing it and returning to his work. "I'm not even paying for half of it, Mari, so stop giving me that look," he said and she could still hear the smile in his voice. She rolled her eyes, giving up the fight--again--and settling her chin on her laced fingers.
"Has it been this quiet all day?" she prompted watching him work. She really enjoyed watching how nimbly he did all of his work--flipping the levers, pouring the syrup...
"Helen said it was pretty busy this morning but then again it wasn't snowing as heavily then either so it makes sense," Dean responded. "I didn't get here until about an hour ago, though, so it hasn't been such a bad deal." She hummed softly.
"What were you up to earlier?" she followed.
"School then my other job," he informed. His contentedness with a slow shift made sense at that point. He was studying to be a doctor after all and his other part time job was as a pediatric shadow or something, keeping him on his toes at all times. So being able to work in a book shop that sold drinks now and then was easy and mindless compared to his usual day. Mari wondered at Dean's desire to be a doctor. He didn't exactly look like the stereotype with his shoulder length hair. He always kept it back in a hair tie and she was sure at the beginning of the day or during his more professional hours it probably looked a little tidier... but, as she saw him hook a few loose strands behind his ear before he put the whip cream on her cocoa, she couldn't quite reconcile his appearance to that of someone looking to work in a clinic one day.
She remembered when she used to tease him about it when they first began talking casually (they had met one day in the shop and soon he found she was a regular) and she had asked how he had gotten a part-time job at the pediatrics office. He had smiled saying that he knew a guy and left it at that. She hadn't pried and he hadn't spoken more on the subject.
"How are classes?" she asked pulling her gaze away from his hair to look at the caramel he drizzled on top of the cream.
"Mmm, studying for finals right now so more stressful than usual," he answered as he placed the cup in front of her. She murmured her thanks, wrapping her cold fingers around the cup feeling the tingling of numbness giving way to alertness in her nerves. She felt his eyes on her and she looked up at him.
She had caught that look from him again, the one where he was obviously trying to read her body language. She always thought he might make a better psychiatrist, needing to read the smallest actions of a person to get to the root of a problem rather than working with children that were blunt and would generally answer your questions because of their unwavering faith that you could heal their pains.
Mari coughed slightly embarrassed by his observation. "Well," she stammered, "I guess you're looking forward to classes getting out because that means Christmas will be here," she said looking up at him and seeing he had looked away from her face and was now focused on her hands on the cup of cocoa. "I mean, you'll be going home to see your family, isn't that so?" she prompted. He stared a fraction of a second longer before taking a deep breath and looking back at her face with a half smile.
"That's right. But I'll only be gone that week and back in time for New Year's. There are some appointments scheduled between the two holidays and it's a good opportunity to get some holiday pay," Dean said with a shrug as he took up a rag and wiped down the counter he had prepped her drink on.
"What's Oregon like in the winter?" she asked.
"You're just full of questions tonight aren't you?" he asked but the chuckle told her he didn't mind her inquisitiveness as he came back to the bar and leaned against it, his arms crossed lazily. "It's cold and when not covered in snowbanks, very green. At least in my neck of the woods," he qualified causing her to smile catching his play on the fact that he lived among the Redwoods along the coast.
Mari took a sip of her cocoa, testing the temperature so as not to scald her tongue.
"How about you? Are you going home?" he asked. She paused the cup still pressed to her lips and she took a little longer of a drink before setting it back down.
"Yeah," she responded softly. It would be her first time home since her brother passed away. He had come home early from his mission with medical complications and had never gotten better. She hadn't told anyone out here about it, feeling as though she wanted to keep it a place where she could escape. Escape from the fact that he was gone. Escape from the effect it had had on her parents. He had been the younger of the two of them and the more humorous of the two.
Mari dreaded it. Walking into her home where his laughter would just be an echo etched into the insulation of the walls. Her family had never been extremely well off but her parents had up til then been able to help her from time to time when she had a hard time making ends meet but after having to pay for her brother, Hank's funeral she couldn't bring herself to ask for money. Her current chilling habitation was a testament of having taken it upon herself to buy her own ticket home assuring her parents that she had enough for it.
But what was she going home to? With Hank gone and the rest of extended family so far away... just the three of them at home... what would this Christmas be like?
"...ri? Mari?" She snapped back to the present to see Dean peering into her face, his keen eyes seemingly trying to discern where she had gone without asking. She took in a sharp breath, blinking her eyes fiercely as she looked away from him. The otakus had left at some point leaving the two of them alone in the small shop.
"S-sorry, what was the question?" Dean stood up straight, his clean shave jaw clenched slightly in what she had learned to be his debate face. He was struggling with whether to press her or to let it slide. Mari sighed and decided to make the decision for him. "Yes, I am going home...but... Dean, it'll be my first time home since Hank passed away..."