love is not a victory march.

When I got off the phone with my Mom last Monday, the song Hallelujah crossed my mind. I've listened to it at least a dozen times over the past week, and have cried each time. My trip home to Oklahoma was bittersweet in so many ways. I got to see Angela – my friend since the fourth grade – the minute that I got off of the airplane. She put her arms around me, and didn't let go. She is one of the most gracious hosts that I've ever known, and she once again opened her home to me with barely a day's notice. I got to spend time with my brother & his girlfriend (who is also a terrific host), and relied on them to make me laugh when I needed it the most.

It was both awesome and strange to see family that I hadn't seen in decades – not distant relatives, but uncles, aunts, and first cousins who haven't been in my life due to various combinations of distance, divorce, and merely different lives. There is part of me that wishes that we would have thought to gather for a group photo – but also part of me that understands that it's just a part of our story. In that story, I am "Mary's middle" – unremarkable on my own, and often mistaken for my sister. I wondered about the stories of cousins who I lost touch with when I left in the 4th grade. I felt comfort when I hugged my favorite uncle, who always whispers "you really are my favorite." I was grateful for the sweet, kind words from another uncle – who I hadn't seen in 19 years – when he greeted me with "My goodness, you're just beautiful." I wished that I had many more hours to talk to my Aunt, and silently promised myself that I'll do better. I held tight to my cousin's hand as we cried while trying to say goodbye. I hugged & kissed the newest cousins – one just a month old – sad that they won't have first-hand memories of our Grandpa. And, of course, I sank into the familiarity of being with my parents – a feeling that still comes rather easily, even though I only see them every 3-5 years.  

As we all settle back into our daily lives, we'll continue living the Simmons legacy – we're stubborn & imperfect, with a bit of wanderlust, a sense of adventure, and a hefty dose of crazy. That's just how we do family.

"Love is not a victory march…it's a cold, and it's a broken, hallelujah."