"The Five S's" - we called the day, I and my friend Aa.: sun, sand, sweat, skin ... and smoke: that's about what I can say for my past Saturday (which would make it the 6th "s": just a coincidence - don't think so).
I traveled to VA Beach to see my friend and also show my aunt The Ocean. She's never seen it before. She's never dipped her foot in it. She is 58. It was a small step for us all, but a huge one for her.
The beach was your usual overcrowded affair at this time of the year, with plenty of skin sightings, some that should be seen and some, better not. But, hey, who am I to judge, right?!
We didn't lay out, but we walked on the beach (man, how is walking on HOT sand not a torture task in Survivor by now?!), on the boardwalk, we had lunch on a sunny patio, we ate waaayyy too much ice cream (my fix for the year, for sure; or maybe for a couple of years) and we shopped in cheesy stores, for cheesy things, as you’re supposed to, at the beach! For the day, we locked up "class" somewhere back in Suffolk, and we turned into your regular tourist.
What was unusual about the beach this time was the smoke. My Goodness, the wild fires in NC have been smoldering for a while now, and that thick, smoky, airy goop still persists in the Hampton Roads area. The wind and humidity made it unbearable! I cannot image what people that live closer to the actual fires have been breathing for the past few weeks, but I sure as heck can tell you it's not good! The air was thick, and smelled like bacon. It was heavy and there was no clear horizon if you looked out the Ocean. The freedom you normally feel on the beach was not there that day. You felt trapped, and your chest was heavy.
When the wind picked up and it also started pouring out of nowhere, we said 'good bye' to the smoky-sandy-sunny-sweaty skins and headed home.
The next day was a whole lot clearer, in Norfolk, and the harbor cruise was picture perfect. No more sand. No more smoke, I was actually asking myself where it all went?! I was shocked at how huge the Norfolk bay is. We went out for miles and miles, and we kept seeing land, and more towns, and bridges, and more ships docked in the NIT (Norfolk International Terminal). The land would just not let go!
With all those impressive military ships, that carry anything from coal to submarines and nuclear weapons, the one boat that fascinated me was the "vacuum cleaner" boat: a boat that sucks sediment off of the bottom of the golf, and through this complicated pipe system, takes it at the end of it, and deposits it into what looks like a natural sand barrier. Amazing! It was the most colorful boat, too, orange and green and maroon. Unlike all the other carriers this boat had personality: it had color and it had a full time job. They think of everything, don't they?!
Other things worth mentioning would be that I did get my fix for fresh seafood, at Pisces in Suffolk. My flounder was fresh, but my friend got the rockfish special and it was out of this world! Gotta love nuts, though!
One thing that sets this trip apart from all my other wanderings is that I did get to hold guns for the first time in my life. Not to shoot them (yet), but to hold them, so ... it was a first for me. They are everything I expected them to be: cold, unfriendly, and rejectful of flesh! But they smell good. They smell ... "technical", and you have all night to figure out what that means! I used to think I want to shoot them, when stressed, but ... now, I am not sure. We'll see ...
Another first was that I saw a “no swearing” sign in VA Beach. At least that’s what my friend calls them and even if they’re not that, I think of them as that, and they’re pretty cool! I am a sucker for original signs, like a bar with the longest name (also on this trip) and the “no swearing” sign which also made my picture collage. Because of the "no swearing", a store could not be called anything but "Oh... Fudge".
What I would do differently next time?! My poor fried skin tells me to remember the sun lotion next time, and my growing hips to stay miles away from any kind of ice cream! Man, that was disgusting, thinking about it...
I should sign this piece: "A., the occasional sweets hater", but I won't! People do silly things when under pressure, let me tell you!
For pictures, please click here.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
The Cat Thing
I am sure I am not the only odd one out there, to be loving her family, but yet still on some days wish that I was adopted, because I cannot and would not relate to any of their weirdness. I am sure I am not alone in this. So, I hope these lines hit some friendly ears.
So the few hours of my aunt's trip have passed by and no, I am not quite on the edge yet, but some feathers have been ruffled, as you can imagine. Thanks to my wonderful friends, M and R, I will try to remember that you cannot choose family and they always mean well, even when they soap up the dishes with no water, or turn off the A/C because it's too draughty in the middle of a Southern summer.
I will try, I said, and that's about the best I can do.
Some things I do love about her visit so far: I am enjoying seeing all things through her eyes, and get a perspective that would be otherwise unknown to me, if she were not here. I am enjoying practicing English with her. It's really a lot of fun when you try to teach a 58 year old retired accountant a foreign language and explain to her the "logic" or ... hhmmm ... lack of ... of irregular verbs. You're trying to tell her all she needs to memorize them is well, a good memory, and she looks at you like you just shot her cat!
Speaking of cats. And of lack of memory. Although I reiterated to her about 1000 times that the only rule of the house (I try not to be the Wicked Witch of the East to my guests and try to give them freedom and not to impose too many rules on them, but I do have ONE) is NOT to let the cats out on the back patio, or on the front porch, anywhere. At any time. No matter how much they beg to be out, they are never, and I repeated, "NEVER", to be under the naked sky! Well, last night, while having dinner on the patio she asked me why don't I let the door open so the cats can join us. I was flabbergasted! "Why?!? Why?!?" You need me to explain to you "why???"???
For how many times???Oh, I am so neurotic!
It's also a lot of fun to have a piece of family there. I live alone. Not just in the house. Nor the town or the State. Just alone in this country. Sure, I have friends, and I am grateful for each one of them, but I have no one that I can call family, much less "blood relation" here, in The States. I am used to it, and I think I've adapted well! But once in a great while I miss "family"! I miss, as I have said before, hugs from people who really mean them! And trust me: that nagging momma of yours, or that hard-to-please dad, or that forgetful grandma, or that seemingly selfish aunt who counts her pennies three times before she writes a check on your birthday, DO mean them! You feel the love in their veins as they hug you whispering at you. It's comforting, and sweet, just like ... coming home. No surprise at all what they say about blood being thicker! You just know! So, I am enjoying that! It makes me feel human again. And "soft". And, well, loved.
All our home-made meals are good: good food, good drinks, great conversation, which is the staple trait in my family. We all love to talk and we're witty and funny. But last night's dinner was extra special. She was not as tired as her first night, and it was not as late, so the mood was right. We put together a tapas plate, with home made pate, and eggplant spread, on fresh bread, with lots of black olives and cheese and salami, Romanian style. A salad on the side ... and a glass of my dad's home made, oh so heavenly, honey-like, nectar sweet white wine. And we stayed on the patio, and chatted way into the night, about our crazy family and about genetics, and about my crazy life here. It was priceless!
And I am grateful that she could make this trip for those moments like last night. I am sure those things will remain with me, 10 years from now, and not the dishwashing ritual, nor her rules about eating strawberries, gargling with baking soda, “disinfecting the stomach” or wearing hats.
Now, if she lets out one of the cats, however ... that's another story altogether and entirely!
So the few hours of my aunt's trip have passed by and no, I am not quite on the edge yet, but some feathers have been ruffled, as you can imagine. Thanks to my wonderful friends, M and R, I will try to remember that you cannot choose family and they always mean well, even when they soap up the dishes with no water, or turn off the A/C because it's too draughty in the middle of a Southern summer.
I will try, I said, and that's about the best I can do.
Some things I do love about her visit so far: I am enjoying seeing all things through her eyes, and get a perspective that would be otherwise unknown to me, if she were not here. I am enjoying practicing English with her. It's really a lot of fun when you try to teach a 58 year old retired accountant a foreign language and explain to her the "logic" or ... hhmmm ... lack of ... of irregular verbs. You're trying to tell her all she needs to memorize them is well, a good memory, and she looks at you like you just shot her cat!
Speaking of cats. And of lack of memory. Although I reiterated to her about 1000 times that the only rule of the house (I try not to be the Wicked Witch of the East to my guests and try to give them freedom and not to impose too many rules on them, but I do have ONE) is NOT to let the cats out on the back patio, or on the front porch, anywhere. At any time. No matter how much they beg to be out, they are never, and I repeated, "NEVER", to be under the naked sky! Well, last night, while having dinner on the patio she asked me why don't I let the door open so the cats can join us. I was flabbergasted! "Why?!? Why?!?" You need me to explain to you "why???"???
For how many times???Oh, I am so neurotic!
It's also a lot of fun to have a piece of family there. I live alone. Not just in the house. Nor the town or the State. Just alone in this country. Sure, I have friends, and I am grateful for each one of them, but I have no one that I can call family, much less "blood relation" here, in The States. I am used to it, and I think I've adapted well! But once in a great while I miss "family"! I miss, as I have said before, hugs from people who really mean them! And trust me: that nagging momma of yours, or that hard-to-please dad, or that forgetful grandma, or that seemingly selfish aunt who counts her pennies three times before she writes a check on your birthday, DO mean them! You feel the love in their veins as they hug you whispering at you. It's comforting, and sweet, just like ... coming home. No surprise at all what they say about blood being thicker! You just know! So, I am enjoying that! It makes me feel human again. And "soft". And, well, loved.
All our home-made meals are good: good food, good drinks, great conversation, which is the staple trait in my family. We all love to talk and we're witty and funny. But last night's dinner was extra special. She was not as tired as her first night, and it was not as late, so the mood was right. We put together a tapas plate, with home made pate, and eggplant spread, on fresh bread, with lots of black olives and cheese and salami, Romanian style. A salad on the side ... and a glass of my dad's home made, oh so heavenly, honey-like, nectar sweet white wine. And we stayed on the patio, and chatted way into the night, about our crazy family and about genetics, and about my crazy life here. It was priceless!
And I am grateful that she could make this trip for those moments like last night. I am sure those things will remain with me, 10 years from now, and not the dishwashing ritual, nor her rules about eating strawberries, gargling with baking soda, “disinfecting the stomach” or wearing hats.
Now, if she lets out one of the cats, however ... that's another story altogether and entirely!
The Cat Thing
I am sure I am not the only odd one out there, to be loving her family, but yet still on some days wish that I was adopted, because I cannot and would not relate to any of their weirdness. I am sure I am not alone in this. So, I hope these lines hit some friendly ears.
So the few hours of my aunt's trip have passed by and no, I am not quite on the edge yet, but some feathers have been ruffled, as you can imagine. Thanks to my wonderful friends, M and R, I will try to remember that you cannot choose family and they always mean well, even when they soap up the dishes with no water, or turn off the A/C because it's too draughty in the middle of a Southern summer.
I will try, I said, and that's about the best I can do.
Some things I do love about her visit so far: I am enjoying seeing all things through her eyes, and get a perspective that would be otherwise unknown to me, if she were not here. I am enjoying practicing English with her. It's really a lot of fun when you try to teach a 58 year old retired accountant a foreign language and explain to her the "logic" or ... hhmmm ... lack of ... of irregular verbs. You're trying to tell her all she needs to memorize them is well, a good memory, and she looks at you like you just shot her cat!
Speaking of cats. And of lack of memory. Although I reiterated to her about 1000 times that the only rule of the house (I try not to be the Wicked Witch of the East to my guests and try to give them freedom and not to impose too many rules on them, but I do have ONE) is NOT to let the cats out on the back patio, or on the front porch, anywhere. At any time. No matter how much they beg to be out, they are never, and I repeated, "NEVER", to be under the naked sky! Well, last night, while having dinner on the patio she asked me why don't I let the door open so the cats can join us. I was flabbergasted! "Why?!? Why?!?" You need me to explain to you "why???"???
For how many times???Oh, I am so neurotic!
It's also a lot of fun to have a piece of family there. I live alone. Not just in the house. Nor the town or the State. Just alone in this country. Sure, I have friends, and I am grateful for each one of them, but I have no one that I can call family, much less "blood relation" here, in The States. I am used to it, and I think I've adapted well! But once in a great while I miss "family"! I miss, as I have said before, hugs from people who really mean them! And trust me: that nagging momma of yours, or that hard-to-please dad, or that forgetful grandma, or that seemingly selfish aunt who counts her pennies three times before she writes a check on your birthday, DO mean them! You feel the love in their veins as they hug you whispering at you. It's comforting, and sweet, just like ... coming home. No surprise at all what they say about blood being thicker! You just know! So, I am enjoying that! It makes me feel human again. And "soft". And, well, loved.
All our home-made meals are good: good food, good drinks, great conversation, which is the staple trait in my family. We all love to talk and we're witty and funny. But last night's dinner was extra special. She was not as tired as her first night, and it was not as late, so the mood was right. We put together a tapas plate, with home made pate, and eggplant spread, on fresh bread, with lots of black olives and cheese and salami, Romanian style. A salad on the side ... and a glass of my dad's home made, oh so heavenly, honey-like, nectar sweet white wine. And we stayed on the patio, and chatted way into the night, about our crazy family and about genetics, and about my crazy life here. It was priceless!
And I am grateful that she could make this trip for those moments like last night. I am sure those things will remain with me, 10 years from now, and not the dishwashing ritual, nor her rules about eating strawberries, gargling with baking soda, “disinfecting the stomach” or wearing hats.
Now, if she lets out one of the cats, however ... that's another story altogether and entirely!
So the few hours of my aunt's trip have passed by and no, I am not quite on the edge yet, but some feathers have been ruffled, as you can imagine. Thanks to my wonderful friends, M and R, I will try to remember that you cannot choose family and they always mean well, even when they soap up the dishes with no water, or turn off the A/C because it's too draughty in the middle of a Southern summer.
I will try, I said, and that's about the best I can do.
Some things I do love about her visit so far: I am enjoying seeing all things through her eyes, and get a perspective that would be otherwise unknown to me, if she were not here. I am enjoying practicing English with her. It's really a lot of fun when you try to teach a 58 year old retired accountant a foreign language and explain to her the "logic" or ... hhmmm ... lack of ... of irregular verbs. You're trying to tell her all she needs to memorize them is well, a good memory, and she looks at you like you just shot her cat!
Speaking of cats. And of lack of memory. Although I reiterated to her about 1000 times that the only rule of the house (I try not to be the Wicked Witch of the East to my guests and try to give them freedom and not to impose too many rules on them, but I do have ONE) is NOT to let the cats out on the back patio, or on the front porch, anywhere. At any time. No matter how much they beg to be out, they are never, and I repeated, "NEVER", to be under the naked sky! Well, last night, while having dinner on the patio she asked me why don't I let the door open so the cats can join us. I was flabbergasted! "Why?!? Why?!?" You need me to explain to you "why???"???
For how many times???Oh, I am so neurotic!
It's also a lot of fun to have a piece of family there. I live alone. Not just in the house. Nor the town or the State. Just alone in this country. Sure, I have friends, and I am grateful for each one of them, but I have no one that I can call family, much less "blood relation" here, in The States. I am used to it, and I think I've adapted well! But once in a great while I miss "family"! I miss, as I have said before, hugs from people who really mean them! And trust me: that nagging momma of yours, or that hard-to-please dad, or that forgetful grandma, or that seemingly selfish aunt who counts her pennies three times before she writes a check on your birthday, DO mean them! You feel the love in their veins as they hug you whispering at you. It's comforting, and sweet, just like ... coming home. No surprise at all what they say about blood being thicker! You just know! So, I am enjoying that! It makes me feel human again. And "soft". And, well, loved.
All our home-made meals are good: good food, good drinks, great conversation, which is the staple trait in my family. We all love to talk and we're witty and funny. But last night's dinner was extra special. She was not as tired as her first night, and it was not as late, so the mood was right. We put together a tapas plate, with home made pate, and eggplant spread, on fresh bread, with lots of black olives and cheese and salami, Romanian style. A salad on the side ... and a glass of my dad's home made, oh so heavenly, honey-like, nectar sweet white wine. And we stayed on the patio, and chatted way into the night, about our crazy family and about genetics, and about my crazy life here. It was priceless!
And I am grateful that she could make this trip for those moments like last night. I am sure those things will remain with me, 10 years from now, and not the dishwashing ritual, nor her rules about eating strawberries, gargling with baking soda, “disinfecting the stomach” or wearing hats.
Now, if she lets out one of the cats, however ... that's another story altogether and entirely!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
With Apprehension
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Love Letters To/ From My Family
Many people ask me how my relationship with my family has changed over the years, ever since I moved to The States. I tell them, with confidence, that it has actually become closer and much more honest ever since. And it is true.
Because of the distance, and the huge phone charges, we get very limited time of actual chatting, and we want to make it worth while. We don’t BS each other about things we don’t mean. Plus, distance makes you wonder: when would be the last time I talk to that person?! Maybe they will pass before my weekly check-in, or for others, my monthly check-in?! So, every second spent on that phone, every email we spend writing is precious, and every word that much more meaningful.
Yes, we still p…s one another off – of course we do! We’re a normal family, with our mood swings and bad days. But we have time to think about forgiveness, too, in-between calls, and next time we chat or write, we do ask for it. Without fault!
I think love is deeper, and every emotion in fact is stronger when distance is involved. The routine of having one another there and taking each other for granted has almost completely become foreign to me!
The way we’re located is typically like this: me - in The US, my sister – in
Now, my dad is a God given, I think, to any house! He is a very responsible, totally a chore man! He does anything and everything in the house, minus mopping and ironing (he would gladly go without either of those, if mom were not around). Everything! (hence my difficulty in respecting men who argue about taking trash out!). He cooks more than my mom, with a passion I have never seen in any other human (maybe Emeril comes close), and if he is not the point person in all the house chores, he helps mom 50% or more with everything!
So, if he misses mom, now that she’s away, it’s not because there is no one there to cook him a hot meal, or make the bed in the morning. No, he misses her because his lonely, and he has no one to listen to him blab (if you ever wonder whom I take after, never do anymore: it’s definitely him!).
And the blabbing daughter that I am myself, I can relate to him: the best part of the day for me is to come home and to tell “someone” about every little detail in my existence in the past 10 hours. That’s where mom comes in for dad.
Now, he comes home to an empty house, and he’s so melancholy and lost. Very rarely, he will carve up a couple of minutes of his busy days, and write us a line about how he is doing.
But when he does, his letters are so emotional, and so full of love! When mom and dad are under the same roof, there is nothing but arguing and nagging. But now, since he’s far away from her for so long, he’s lost without her. And the love seeps through. These are some snippets from his last 2 letters:
“ June 6. I am writing for both the 5th and the 6th, as I don’t have time to do it every day.
Yesterday, I shopped in the morning. Then, I took a nap, and in the afternoon I cooked for tomorrow, when I invited a few friends for dinner. (…)
June 7. The guests arrived around 4 and left around 9. This was the menu I prepared for them: ham, 2-3 kinds of cheeses, meatloaf, olives and caviar, eggplant salad with fresh tomatoes, stuffed grape leaves and polenta, grilled chicken, sausages and cabbage salad, sautéed lamb chops, roasted potatoes, tiramisu, ice cream and fresh cherry preserves, and various fruits from the back yard. To drink, we had tzuika, cherry liqueur, white and red wine, beer and water. All I was missing at the end was a check for all my efforts. I had planned this for four people, but I ended up with 8, so, it’s a good thing I cooked a lot. (…)
(then, he goes on and on about how he helped other friends with their cars and water heater, etc).
This is the story of my two days of loneliness. Other than that, all I can say is that I am alone in this immensity, which is our house; our house which is now empty of our discussions, and our fights, and our love for each other, empty of our routines. Sometimes I feel like she (my mom) is in the office working on the computer and I start talking to her, out loud. Other times, I reach for her in bed, at night, hoping to find her … And this is just the beginning of my loneliness, and maybe I’ll become used to it.
It’s tough. But everything has an end.
I wish you all much health, lots of pounds to Patrick (the new baby), (…)a peaceful heart to A. (me), and to An. (mom), lots of happiness amongst her children and with her new grandson. Bye, kids, and much love.
June 8. (after giving us details about all his accomplished chores: farmers’ market, church, another set of guests, etc). The life of a lonely man can be tumultuous and full, indeed. Full of aloneness, that is. As you can tell, there is no room for boredom. But room for a woman?! Room for my woman?? Where, I wonder, is she?!”
Yeah, he’s a goof, too. Anyways, no matter how we are spread all over the world, we miss each other, and love each other that much more. And we pretty much write each other every day (except for dad who writes every other day or so, but consolidates his “reports” so we won’t miss any of his daily happenings). Even apart, we always keep each other in mind.
And, trust me, dad, I feel your pain!
Not only “the life of a lonely man” can be “tumultuous and full”, but also that of a lonely woman. And no matter how much activity fills my days, the joy of relating that to someone at the end of it is still missing. That’s why, I never go do bed anymore, before I email my parents and my sister. Every day, with religiousness, and with love. Because I need my 2 minutes of updates to all. And that’s what family and love should be all about.
Communication and love wishes.
And with that being said, I hope one never looks at this, as a simple truism; it’s just so much deeper than just that: “Distance makes the heart grow fonder “.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Hoping for Love - A Taboo?!
If someone tells me this one more time: "You find love when you stop looking for it. Always, it just happens out of the blue, when you don't expect it to happen at all." - I am going to scream!!
I want to find at least one person who is brave enough to admit that that statement is bogus.
Because I would love to meet just one person (not more) that is single and never thinks, honestly, that there "might be" someone there for them. Maybe. One day. Even long from now, just one day ... there will be someone with whom to share the omelet on a Sunday morning, and the paper.
I am not saying that we, single people, are thinking about that obsessively, and can't function fine independently. But alone at night, in our beds, when we're craving a hug, or a back rub, or when we forget to switch off the light ourselves, or one day, when we plan a cruise all alone, or a tour around Europe, we think that "it might be nice to share the dreams, and the lonely moments", and to find someone that can finish our sentences and guess our order at our favorite restaurant ... And if we say publicly otherwise, it's nothing but a lie, I think.
Look at the "Sex and the City" phenomenon! I mean, my God, there is a whole culture around nothing but looking for love, finding love, losing love, and finding it again, and hoping it'll be back one day, to stay forever. There is this "looking for love" phenomenon out there that lasted years on the small screen (six seasons' worth) and now it's out in the theaters and people are still coming to feed from it. No, no, they're not just lukewarm about it either: the movie made it to number one at the box office in its first weekend.
You tell me, then, that I am a dreamer or I should stop hoping?! What about all that?! And don't say "it's just a movie", because it's "just a movie that people evidently can relate too", so it's not just me, it's millions out there like me.
I am not sure who in actuality can give up "expecting" and "hoping". How do you turn off the "hope switch", anyhow?! I don't think that anyone in the mainstream, dating adult population is truly capable of that shut-off when it comes to finding someone. I don't think humans can ever give up hope when they're in need or want of something - end of discussion.
Humans are social beings, and we're born to mate. And we'll be looking for that other half to complete us till we find it. True, for some of us the other half might have been rotten or underdeveloped and never shows up. But do we know that? No! So, we don't stop hoping, and waiting, and thinking about it.
That's actually all we have control over to do: the only freedom we have is over our minds (as long as we still have them): and that's where the hoping, and the dreaming goes on. The only certainty we have is of a dream, that maybe one day, we won't be alone, like God and nature and humanity intended. I'm still trying to figure out why we can't, in our culture, admit to that dreaming.
It's what we're designed to do: we wait to be complete. And till then, we feel crippled. And don't tell me that cripple people stop hoping. Or stopped believing in miracles, even. Because you know better!
I want to find at least one person who is brave enough to admit that that statement is bogus.
Because I would love to meet just one person (not more) that is single and never thinks, honestly, that there "might be" someone there for them. Maybe. One day. Even long from now, just one day ... there will be someone with whom to share the omelet on a Sunday morning, and the paper.
I am not saying that we, single people, are thinking about that obsessively, and can't function fine independently. But alone at night, in our beds, when we're craving a hug, or a back rub, or when we forget to switch off the light ourselves, or one day, when we plan a cruise all alone, or a tour around Europe, we think that "it might be nice to share the dreams, and the lonely moments", and to find someone that can finish our sentences and guess our order at our favorite restaurant ... And if we say publicly otherwise, it's nothing but a lie, I think.
Look at the "Sex and the City" phenomenon! I mean, my God, there is a whole culture around nothing but looking for love, finding love, losing love, and finding it again, and hoping it'll be back one day, to stay forever. There is this "looking for love" phenomenon out there that lasted years on the small screen (six seasons' worth) and now it's out in the theaters and people are still coming to feed from it. No, no, they're not just lukewarm about it either: the movie made it to number one at the box office in its first weekend.
You tell me, then, that I am a dreamer or I should stop hoping?! What about all that?! And don't say "it's just a movie", because it's "just a movie that people evidently can relate too", so it's not just me, it's millions out there like me.
I am not sure who in actuality can give up "expecting" and "hoping". How do you turn off the "hope switch", anyhow?! I don't think that anyone in the mainstream, dating adult population is truly capable of that shut-off when it comes to finding someone. I don't think humans can ever give up hope when they're in need or want of something - end of discussion.
Humans are social beings, and we're born to mate. And we'll be looking for that other half to complete us till we find it. True, for some of us the other half might have been rotten or underdeveloped and never shows up. But do we know that? No! So, we don't stop hoping, and waiting, and thinking about it.
That's actually all we have control over to do: the only freedom we have is over our minds (as long as we still have them): and that's where the hoping, and the dreaming goes on. The only certainty we have is of a dream, that maybe one day, we won't be alone, like God and nature and humanity intended. I'm still trying to figure out why we can't, in our culture, admit to that dreaming.
It's what we're designed to do: we wait to be complete. And till then, we feel crippled. And don't tell me that cripple people stop hoping. Or stopped believing in miracles, even. Because you know better!
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