The end of an era...

In December 2001, I dressed my four month old baby girl in a pink snowflake sweater and packed her into her carseat.  We loaded her into our green Dodge Neon and made a bajillion hour drive from Bemidji to Downtown Minneapolis all so she could have her picture taken with the only "real" Santa.  We stood in a long line that wound its way through a furniture section, up several sets of escalators, and finally down a long hallway toward a magical exhibit that has always been my favorite Holiday tradition.  The 7th Floor Holiday Exhibit in a store that I still want to call Dayton's has taken me on journeys through my favorite stories like Peter Pan and the Velveteen Rabbit, introduced me to the ultra-cuteness in the form of a Santa Bear, and has kept pulling me in despite the recycled Santaland thee every year because, well, tradition!  Today, I made the odd decision to watch the local TV news and learned that Macy's will be closing this store and severing one of the remaining ties to my childhood at the same time.

I know it seems melodramatic, but I cried when I heard the story.  I cried real tears.  I know some of my friends, one in particular, will tease me and make me feel silly about having feeeeeelings about the closure of a store.  But, for me, this store houses some of my most favorite memories.  Every single picture my kids have had with Santa has been taken in that store.  I can remember peeking through a window to see Tinkerbell glow and feeling amazed and excited.  Even the long wait was fun because we got to wind our way though that furniture section and imagine what it would be like to be wealthy enough to decorate a whole room with Dayton's furniture.  As a little girl, I would stand in that line in my itchy dress and shiny black patent leather shoes, and I would imagine my life as a grown up.  I would imagine shopping in the Oval Room and then taking the escalator to also purchase a lovely chaise lounge for my fancy bedroom.  I figured I'd eat in the Oak Room at least once a week and I'd have a job near the skyway so I could browse the pretty shoes on my lunch break.  

I suppose I'm not really mourning the loss of this store.  I mean, I am, but the real grief is in the dreams I had for my life that have not been realized.  I don't actually wish I could go shopping on the Nicollet Mall every day and buy ultra matchy matchy furniture from a fancy store.  No.  Those girlhood dreams are not the dreams I am mourning right now.  The content of my dreams has changed, but the essence has not.  I want(ed) a good life...a life where I am comfortable, safe, secure, and happy.  Can I be honest? Really honest? Those dreams have not come true and it feels like the closure of this store is also the end of those dreams.  I know, that's silly, but it's how I feel.  

If you look to the right on this blog, you'll notice that my last post was in November.  Early November.  In the past month, I have sat before this screen more times than I can count, staring at the blinking cursor, and looking for something...anything...to inspire me.  I'm in a rut...in writing and in life.  I know this because the things I feel inspired to write are the same things I've already written about.  I keep starting blog posts that are about my search for hope and life balance.  But even I am sick of the repeated fresh starts and new beginnings.  On the other hand, I feel inspired and convicted to make bold decisions and write bold statements on these pages, but when push comes to shove I lack bravery in life and on the page.  I am afraid.  I am afraid to stay the same and afraid to make the change.  I am just afraid and that's nothing to write about, really.

Except that maybe it is.  Today, I had three different people tell me that they appreciated the words i write on these pages.  While I know I have a teensy gift with words, I don't think that is what draws people in.  I think that the vulnerability I have laid bare on these pages have created a sense of community among the many broken-hearted souls bravely keeping on keeping on in my little sphere on this planet.  Laying my heart out for the public to view has been reckless and probably kind of stupid, but has also allowed me to make connections with people.  We can look at each other and say the words, "Me too" and, for just a minute, feel a little less alone.

So, here we are.  I may not be brave enough to make the decisions today.  I may not be brave enough to write the bold words right now.  But, I am brave enough to admit to all of you that I am not brave in the ways that I want to be.  And haven't we all been there?  

Please say "yes." Please tell me that I'm not the only one who has found herself in a rut so deep that it's beginning to feel like the cave in which I must reside.  Please tell me that I'm not alone in feeling afraid.  Please tell me I'm not the only one whose dreams have been so violently dashed that I'm afraid to even dream at all.  

Man, I wish i could tie this blog post into a neat bow and end with some philosophical nugget that signals my commitment to hope.  Maybe tomorrow I can write those kinds of hopeful words, but today, I'm just going to cry about a department store closing and mourn the loss of my childhood dreams.  Hope will come again...maybe tomorrow, even.  But today, I'm just gonna be kind of sad and mournful.  To quote my father-in-law, "Nobody said it'd be fair, Sunshine."   No.  Nobody did say it would be fair, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.  

Farewell, Macy's.  I will miss you and your store full of my aspirations.  Farewell, innocence...it was a good ride.  Now, to what shall I say "Hello?"