As a best friend’s father lay dying last winter we gathered around the edge of his bed and I grabbed one of his hands. I held it in mine and traced the lines and sun spots dotting his skin. Those hands were like a glimpse into his past; of a life well-lived. And, it was one of the first times I’ve talked out loud about how special I think a person’s hands are.

Mine are typing this post right now. They have typed, or handwritten, thousands of stories, letters and postcards to friends and family all over the world. They have held crying babies, laughing babies, and a dying baby. They have cooked countless meals and, in the case of tonight’s dinner, burned a few as well.

I used to watch my grandmother’s as she rolled out her own noodles, or carried my handicapped cousin through the house. My children have used theirs to make me homemade cards. My dad used his for manual labor. My mom uses hers to work logic problems, or wrap her loving arms around the back of her very dirty grandson.

Hands create, they comfort, they caress and they betray. I can’t help but think of the love they promised, the ring mine wore for 18 years, and how they held the pen that signed that all away. I remember another relationship when they were used to hurt me. I think of the guns they fire and the harm they can do.

And, I can’t help but think of the new hands I hold; stronger than any I know, calloused and worn, but gentle and giving. They have rubbed my shoulders during tense times, held me in the midst of darkness and danced with me in the light. They have been quite wonderful at prodding me to do new things in this new life. I love them.

They say eyes are the window to the soul, but I think it’s the hands. Next time I see you, take my hand and give me a glimpse into yours.

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It’s no secret that life has changed a lot around here. Many days are still hard – there’s a lot of anger and resentment, and having a child with special needs who goes through major life trauma isn’t as easy as it sounds. As a matter of fact, it sounds a lot like a screaming cat. In heat. Dying.

But, some days are beautiful. There have been so many new experiences that were possible and yet, not possible, in my former life. I’m specifically referring to an eight year period in which I didn’t travel more than a couple of hundred miles away from home.

I love to travel. I’m sure there are people who would say I didn’t sacrifice enough during 18 years of marriage, but I would beg to differ. I think deep inside I knew what I was missing. Maybe that resentment manifested itself in little ways I wasn’t even aware of. Related: My new relationship mantra is, “No resentment.” There will be no more of that.

In the past 13 months, I have traveled to 11 states. I may have been meant to be a trucker, because my heart is really happy on the road. If I had a CB and an orangutan, I’d be all set. Also, I just made a reference that no one under 42 years old understands.

My latest adventure was on the west coast experiencing the northern California and Nevada I’ve only seen rushing by in taxis on the way to conferences. The best part? I got to take my kids.

This is the picture where I crossed #4 off of my Life List. Stand under a giant sequoia. Check.

Here’s my daughter, on the edge of a cliff at Lands End park. This child of mine, who is almost a woman (GULP) was quite the risk-taker on this trip; literally living on the edge.

What you can’t see in this picture is the mighty Pacific and fields of green so vibrant I was sure we were actually in Ireland. So, here you go…

This is my son sitting inside the roots of a fallen tree in Lake Tahoe.

What you can’t see is the waterfall to the left, or the bluest lake I’ve ever seen, or the snow-capped mountains dotted with fir trees. Oh, wait…THERE they are.

And, this? This was when we pulled the van over on the side of the road at a completely random spot, scrambled over some rocks and found a perfect view. You know the feeling when the wind gets knocked out of you? This did that to me. I’m sure it was partly the altitude, but it was also this view. Undoubtedly.

There was so much more to this trip – dear old friends, Alcatraz, swimming pools and sushi. And, there was the memory created when my son pulled a fire alarm in the hotel at midnight. Sigh…good times, good times.

Mostly, though, there was so much beauty and happiness and I’m thankful to have moments like these in my life again. The bonus is that it’s really hard to be resentful when you experience goodness like that.

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I have no explanation for my absence other than the fact that May is kind of a jerk.

It rolled in with me crossing a half marathon off my life-list on a beautiful morning, then the sun appeared and flowers bloomed, there were weekend getaways, fresh air, laughter, and friends started coming out of their homes like spring-struck zombies carrying grilled hamburgers and coolers of beer. See? May is a jerk because it makes all the other months look bad.

There are a lot of things going on my life that I can’t discuss here; like, my bangs for instance. We really shouldn’t talk about my bangs. They are in that awkward, growing-out stage where I have to apologize for them a lot. I’m sorry for my bangs.

My whole life is like my bangs, really. Everything is in that awkward, growing stage where you aren’t sure of your footing or where your next step will lead. That is why I almost packed a bag and flew out to Utah on a whim to hike in Zion National Park (another life-list item). Because I’ve heard there’s no better time to walk up the side of a cliff than when you aren’t sure of your footing. Wait…maybe it was my estranged husband who told me that.

But, despite being unsure of the road ahead, I am eager to see where it leads. Facing so many unknowns – facing fears I never thought I would need to face…EVER – well, it’s resulted in me being a lot more fearLESS. I guess some people would call it an awakening. Either that, or stupid. Whatever you call it, I think it’s pretty grand.

Let me see if I can break it down into something everyone can understand. Beef.

Let’s say you always order chicken. Occasionally, when you’re feeling a little crazy, you get yourself a piece of salmon, but most of the time it’s just chicken. You always get chicken, because you don’t like steak. Plus, steak is expensive.

But, everyone keeps telling you how delicious steak is and you’re really missing out by not ordering it. So, one day you think I’m going to try this ONE MORE TIME and you order a ribeye that’s been marinating for, what tastes like, a million years. It’s tender, it’s delicious, it melts in your mouth. You really have been missing out. You hate it when your friends are right!

It turns out that all this time you were just ordering the wrong cut of meat. And, this is not a metaphor for my relationship, it’s really about steak. And, life. Steak IS life. Take that, chicken.

So, that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m trying all the steaks. I’m noticing how blue the sky is, how beautiful the music sounds, how joyous my children are, how cold the beer is, how soft my bed feels, and I’m letting it all marinate and enjoying it on a big, fat, life platter.

And May has been a LOT of that. I guess she’s not so bad after all.

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There is something I need. I need it as much as water, air, food, clothing, shelter, coffee and beer. If I am to be a functioning member of society, I need laughter.

For a while, I didn’t have much laughter in my life. The reason I know about that ‘functioning’ thing I mentioned is because I was barely doing it. I kind of floundered through my days. And, we’re not talking about lightly-seared or grilled flounder, but stuffed. With potatoes. And, chorizo. Heavy. With a side of squash.

But, slowly, light began to creep in and now there is laughter every day and I’m functioning again. Sure, sometimes I flounder, but mostly I’m wild-caught, with a squeeze of lemon. Light. With a side of asparagus.

Amid the financial crisis, the turmoil my kids are dealing with, and the loss of touch with family, I can still find something funny each day. It really is the best medicine.

So what’s my secret?

1. Inside jokes. I have inside jokes with my co-workers, friends, kids, and even the pharmacist. When you can laugh about something and no one else knows what you’re talking about, it makes it extra funny. For instance, I can just say the word, “Georgette” and one of my friends is cracking up right now.

2. A funny family. We have been through some awful times together and we can be completely serious if we need to be, but more than likely you’ll find us cracking jokes at a funeral. Probably as part of the eulogy.

3. Three friends who make me laugh every day. It’s not always the same three, but there are at least three people I talk to, text with or see in person who know just what to say to get a giggle out of me. If, by the end of the day, there haven’t been three, then I’ll text one of them so I can meet my quota.

4. Comedies. I don’t care if it’s Paul Blart Mall Cop, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, or my current personal favorite, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, which streams into my room via Netflix every night – watching something funny does the trick. Bonus, Kimmy and I both have an unbreakable theme going on which is kind of an inside joke, except she doesn’t know it because she isn’t real. But, darn it, if she were, she would totally be my friend.

5. My kids. The surest way to get me to laugh is for me to make my kids laugh first. That’s right. I tickle them. Sure, it’s actually torture and completely cruel, but it’s funny! Or, I can just give my son a Tootsie Pop.

I hope you laugh today.

This post is sponsored by Netflix as part of the Netflix Stream Team.

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