Yet Another Reminder of How Quickly Time Passes

This past Tuesday, cancer touched my life yet again and took my beloved dog Macy from this world after an 8 month battle and I cannot begin to express how much I am hurting.

Although I knew that the end was near, nothing could prepare me for the pain I feel without her by my side. It’s simply not the same to come home and not be greeted by gleeful whimpers and vigorous tail-wagging. My home feels empty without the sounds of her paws tapping on the hardwood floors and the jiggle of her ID tags on her collar, as she chased her feline sisters, Chesse & Zena. To put it simply, I would do absolutely anything for more time with my Macy.

It seems like yesterday I was sitting in my fifth grade classroom, counting down the minutes to when my mom promised to go pick up our new puppy, Macy from my neighbor’s makeshift animal shelter in her home. It was a cloudy February afternoon and I was absent-mindedly coloring my pencil box and I staring at the clock, anxiously anticipating the arrival of 12:15pm. It was at this time that I leapt out of my seat and shouted “I officially have a dog!” which of course, cost me at least 10 minutes of my recess.

Despite how vivid this memory is in my head, the fact of the matter is that this day was nine and a half years ago and now all I’m left with is a tin full of her ashes and a hole in my heart that seems to widen every time I remember all of the good times we shared together, as well as all of the difficult days she helped my family and I through. You see, it was Macy who stayed by my mom’s side through her battle with breast cancer, that began just two months after we welcomed her into our home. It was Macy who nuzzled her face into mine to dry the tears I shed over the passing of my grandma, just three weeks into my freshman year of college and above all, it was Macy who loved us unconditionally from the minute we brought her home to the moment of her last breath in this world.

Her passing has provided me with yet another reminder that nothing lasts forever. Although, its hard to remember days before Macy or Chesee and Zena (who are 13 and 12 years old respectively), unfortunately, days without them will come. This same notion goes for my parents, my friends, and everything else that I love in this world, and frankly, that’s a pretty tough pill to swallow. However, instead of dwelling on the the fact that loss and pain are inevitable in this world, Macy has reminded me that I need to focus on living one day at a time and truly appreciating all that I am blessed with.

With all that in mind, the only thing there’s left to say is rest in peace, Macy girl and thank you for showing my family and I nothing but love while you were here in this world. I love you.

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There’s a Reason No One is Singing About Being 19

Taylor Swift has taught us of the naivety of falling in love when you’re fifteen and that being twenty-two comes with feeling “happy, free, confused, and lonely, at the same time”, yet she hasn’t offered any wisdom of what nineteen brings. Frankly, I’m not surprised because being nineteen is by far the oddest stage of adulthood.

I’m at this strange juncture of longing for more freedom but being not quite ready to abandon my childish sense of curiosity and dive head-first into a world of practicality and responsibility. Part of me is dying to be like one those sophisticated post-grad twenty-somethings who seem to have everything all figured out, yet at the same time, I’m not sure if I’m ready to move on from a stage in my life where it’s still socially acceptable to drunkenly order Dominos at 3am.

To be quite honest, it seems as though being nineteen is just like being the less-than-noteworthy age of fourteen all over again. The rush of excitement that came with my mom finally letting me go to mall by myself was enough to make the fourteen-year-old version of me feel like a badass, just like my curfew-less college nights filled with cheap beer and poor decisions makes nineteen-year-old me feel on top of the world (after the hangover subsides, of course.) However, at the end of my independent escapades in Hollister, Abercrombie, & Forever 21, fourteen-year-old me was brought back to reality as I took my place in the passengers seat of my mom’s Jeep. Fast forward five years and a similar scenario plays out because at the end of another semester of living by my own rules, nineteen-year-old me is back in my childhood bedroom answering to my parents.

It seems only fitting to turn to social media to deal with yet another awkward, intermediate stage of growing up seeing as though angsty AIM messages and MySpace music seemed to get me through my middle school days relatively unscathed. So, without further ado, I give you a blog filled with the thoughts of a nineteen-going-on-twenty year old, just trying to figure out this whole life thing.