MaMaLiRZ

I hate being American!  The thought bounced around in my head like a pinball sent into the upper quadrant of the machine. Ping, ping, ping…  And finally like the ball falling flat and through the lower paddles, the thought transformed into words that escaped my mouth.  I hate being American! The IRS worker must have been so confused she stumbled through her message of short-staffing and delayed responses of years.  I followed it up with, so I should just never expect to see my overpayment in my life.  I mean think about it, at least then I can be sure to surpass my expectations, right?  She stuttered this time with a “I’m… not… saying thaaaat”.  But what she was saying is that the IRS can hold our overpayment without paying interest or penalty, because it began with my accountant’s mistake, not theirs.  So, a timeline that is expected to be 16 weeks has turned into 55 weeks and counting.

But slow down I tell myself, it’ll be found money once it comes through, a joy, right?  Which then got me thinking about joy.  I could have never imagined myself sitting at this period of my life, 50^th birthday in my rearview mirror, one-year divorced, one-year post completion of a move back to America from Europe, 1.5 years removed from the death of the most influential person in my life, my dad, and navigating not just for myself but also my two minor children.  I must do better.  Joy had seeped from my skin like oxygen escaping the lungs of a tear-gassed bystander, sucked and drawn out. Just beyond the cloud of gas I could see the possibility of joy again, but I couldn’t muster the strength to remove myself fast enough or far enough from the poison.  Life was my poison, and it was all around me, suffocating not just my breath but my life and any hopes of joy filling it again.

The transition was smooth, the cloud lifted, and the future was presented to me.  It transcended death, avoided negativity, and freed my soul from the chains that bonded it to responsibility, requirements, demands and the needs of everyone and everything beyond my aura.  I will transform the box we are told to live in, stretch it to breaking if necessary and embark on a quest for joy and laughter and I will bring my children along for the discovery.

And that birthed the idea of visiting the National Parks, all 63 of them.  Wouldn’t it be great to do it in a year, but that is too rushed. Slow down, take it in and sprinkle joy, and happiness where possible whether internally or externally, but without a doubt throughout my children’s essences.  My soul rejoiced, and a protective barrier like a mother’s love, naturally formed and started to protect the seed of joy newly sprouting and seeing its first peek of the sunlight. And thus birthed the “Wander Through Wonder” endeavor.