This isn’t a proper blog post, just an update to end a wonderful day.

I want to remember this day.

After my post this morning, I went into the kitchen and baked cupcakes. I didn’t know what I was going to do with two dozen mini-cakes, but I made them anyway, and I made them with love. Toward the end of icing the tops with pink frosting and colored sprinkles, I decided to walk down the street to the nursing home I used to work at, and pass them out there. I grabbed the remaining Valentine’s Day cards I had, put the cupcakes in a huge basket, and made the trek down the road.

Upon entering, I went straight into the dining room where some resident’s were seated for lunch. Sometimes I miss working there; it was emotionally and physically draining, but so very rewarding. I was greeted with huge smiles and an abundance of cheek kisses. “I made these Valentine’s cupcakes with love, would you like one?” I would ask. Some happily and excitedly reached in to grab one, others (the grumpy old men) made me work to give the gift.

“No!” one man said hoarsely.

“Oh come on,” I batted my eyes, “I made one just especially for you!”

“Well how much does it cost?” He asked, scowling in my direction.

“It’s free, of course!” I wasn’t going to back down. I picked up a cupcake with a heart drawn on it, “Come on, you wouldn’t let a girl down, would ya?”

“Oh alright,” and he grabbed for it.

Another man, Wayne Drury (you can find some of his old music here), gave that bright smile that only he can, and shook his head when I handed him a “Be Mine” card.

I roamed the halls for an hour, going into rooms and surprising people with little sweets of love.

As I passed one room in particular, I stopped and stared in. I missed Randy. I got closer to him than anyone else when I had worked there; he became like a father to me, I a daughter to him. Hours and hours were spent sitting next to his bed, hearing his stories and getting advice. He was such a courageous and outstanding man, treated terribly by his family & deserving of so much more. After I quit, I still made it a point to go see him often. I was making mistake after mistake; wrong turn after wrong turn. I would go into his room with tears in my eyes, feeling like such a failure. Randy would hug me tight and remind me that I still had all the time in the world to get things right.

A couple of years ago, he went into a coma (for reasons I am unsure of) and was hospitalized. I tried so fucking hard to get in there to see him, they never would let me in. One day, he woke up. When word got to me, I dropped everything and rushed to the hospital and tried once again to get them to let me in. I begged. “At least tell him I came.” They turned me away, and shortly after, he passed away. I never found out if he knew I came; that I tried to see him; that I cared … but he died, and I didn’t get to say goodbye. And so I stood staring into the room with someone else residing inside, and I took a minute to remember my friend. I can’t help but cry as I write this … I miss him; I loved him so.

After the cupcakes were gone, I went into my mom’s office and asked her about a young girl I had passed a few times. I found out that she had recently gotten into trouble and that her mom was making her volunteer; a very similar story to mine. When I was 16, I was caught with drugs, ran away from home & got arrested. I was forced to spend my free time volunteering at the nursing home (which turned out to be a wonderful thing). Apparently this girl was struggling with issues that resembled some of my past ones. I can’t explain my next action, because my next action made no sense. I hadn’t met this girl, I hadn’t even spoken two words to her … but I left the office, went up to her and asked, “Have you eaten lunch yet?”

She shook her head, “No…”

“Well let’s go out to eat.”

She looked shocked, but smiled, “Yeah, that sounds cool.” She went to tell her mom (everyone there knows me, so I didn’t look like too much of a creeper), and then we left.

12 years younger than me, I saw so much of my old self in her. Such similarities, such despair. I tried opening up to her, sharing some of my experiences so that she might feel comfortable sharing with me. She ended up telling me things like we had been friends for ages, and it turns out she recognized my Die Antwoord cd (no one ever knows who they are!) … bonus points for her!

I don’t know why I was drawn so instantly to spending time with this girl, this stranger. I don’t know why I felt so strongly about letting her know she wasn’t alone. I didn’t know any of the reasoning … until afterward. This girl is me 12 years ago. Her struggles, her issues … I had to let her know  that all this shit will one day end; that those mean kids at school will eventually fade away and lose their power. I took her under my wing, perhaps, because I saw myself. It was my chance to make peace; to make it all right. To talk to young Loony and tell her that everything would be okay.

Today I learned the reasoning behind all of my past struggle’s. Today, all of that pain became worth it.

Then I came home and cooked an amazing dinner & dessert for us ladies (mama, sister and myself), and I started a new workout routine (this kicked my ass, and it’s only Level ONE!). I’ve lost 11 lbs so far this year, now I need to start toning these lumps.

I’m single, and I had the best Valentine’s Day that I’ve ever had, including the years I was “taken.” Beautiful, beautiful day.