I woke up early this morning and thought (because it’s all-consuming right now) about this move to a new home. This time it wasn’t the sentimentality that hit me – I’ve come to terms with the fact that we’re leaving our house of 17 years and it doesn’t matter where we are, as long as we are together we will make it a home. That’s sappier than a pine tree, but true.

And, it wasn’t about the work going on in the house – we’ve finished tearing out carpet, landscaping, a good friend installed a new shower, the painters are almost finished, new floors will be down by the end of the week – I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It was about karma and how, as Justin Timberlake so eloquently says, “What goes around comes back around.” I love it when he gets philosophical.

I’d like to say that when I was young I was the picture of manners and kindness, but as kids can be, I was occasionally mean. I didn’t say things to anyone’s face, but I did make fun of a few peers behind their backs. I still feel guilty about it 30+ years later. Kids, what you say to other people affects YOU, too. I was a jerk so you don’t have to be.

One of the fellow students I used to talk about was a boy who sat across from me in 7th grade art class. I made fun of him because he growled at me. Now, I have a son who growls, barks, chirps, flaps, and sometimes exhales so loudly that it sounds like there couldn’t be ONE BIT of air remaining in his lungs. That right there? Karma.

Then in high school, I gossiped about a girl who I thought was overly dramatic. I am now a blogger, so I’m pretty sure that covers the karma department, but last night my husband and I made a very overpriced offer on her current home. When I wrong someone, I pay them back in the 10s of thousands.

So, this morning as I thought of how things feel right and are falling into place because they are supposed to, I heard my husband yelling from the hall bath. I ran in to find one of the kids had clogged the toilet during the night and it was overflowing. There was an inch of water on the bathroom floor and I suddenly heard a familiar dripping sound in the kitchen downstairs.

I ran down to find water pouring through the FRESHLY PRIMED AND PAINTED kitchen ceiling. Never mind the soaking wet counter, cabinets, floor, appliances and cell phone, but the ceiling! I never did anything bad to someone’s kitchen ceiling! What kind of fresh karma is this?

Now that things are cleaned up and I’m bracing myself for the painter’s reaction, I’m wondering what will be coming back to me for the filthy cuss words that were flying from my mouth when I looked up and saw that ceiling. Because suddenly I’m thinking that a bird pooping squarely on my tongue is not going to be out of the question.

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When I was a teenager my life was, quite frankly, a mess. I won’t go into details, because that isn’t what matters now. What I will say is that I was existing, but not living or experiencing much beauty. I felt unloved, I was in an abusive relationship, and had a lot on my plate. Depression is a terrible, debilitating beast and I found myself deep in its clutches.

I managed to climb out with the help of three things; a great teacher, extended family and, you may not believe this, but it’s true, Dead Poet’s Society.

The words of my English teacher, “…you write well” were still fresh in my mind when I saw that movie and I witnessed characters on the screen who were so much like me. They were young, struggling and in pain, but great writing and a teacher sparked something in them that they didn’t know existed.

My first English essay in college began with a quote from Dead Poet’s Society. I still remember handing in the paper, fresh from the dot-matrix printer, and feeling confident about my written words. I don’t know if I would have been able to write anything were it not for that film and the inspiration it gave me.

There is a scene in that movie where a character, Neil, commits suicide and I remember the sheer pain expressed by the actors who played his parents as they run into the room and find him lying dead. I remember thinking how much someone would have to be suffering to knowingly cause their loved ones that kind of devastation.

I am feeling such twisted emotions over the loss of Robin Williams. I am heartbroken that he was tortured by depression, I am saddened that we will no longer be entertained by his genius, and I am so grateful that he made a movie that touched me in such a tremendous way. Rest peacefully, my Captain.

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