slamming doors

Never burn bridges.

One door closes for another door to open.

Approaching a crossroad.

Thus far, I've excelled specifically at one characteristic in life: leaving doors open. Setting myself in a position to proceed in any direction. Leaving the exit door of the past ajar has kept my mind at ease and emotions at bay. Saying goodbye has never been pretty when I'm involved. This reassurance has been created as a coping mechanism. Cracked doors mean I posses the ability to sneak back into the past and act as though I never left-- if desire one day strikes.

Neutrals and vintage and pearls and lace; never go out of style. Comforting knowing that my favorite black dress with matching lace pumps won't ever be considered last season. Worse comes to worse I find myself in a bind, that outfit is tucked safely in my closet. Familiar combination of lace and bows and neutrals and pumps never let down; never underdressed. Holding sentimental value, my precious outfit is becoming tattered and torn and quickly approaching the moment where we must part. Representing key moments of the past, people, places, emotions, decisions, priorities-- all which have altered over time. Begging for one more memory. It has served its purpose. The end is near. The time is now.

Certainly, I'll encounter this seasons lace and pearls and bows and pumps that leap off the hanger to share more of life's memories with. Surely this new dress will become tattered and old and eventually hold heart filled and heartrending emotions. In order to arrive safely at these unknown destinations, one must let go of familiar and dependable and recognizable and safe.

Doors must be closed completely; slam if necessary. Emotions will whirl and tears will fall and occasionally, smiles and giggles and sighs of relief accompany these moments. Decisions and doors unique to their own; the prize is reaching forward to the next door handle. Promise, the other side holds hope and adventure and new black lace pumps with bows.

Sometimes, there is no going back.

Swore we'd never see the end

This past weekend I attended Tri Delta's Spring Formal as one of my dearest little sister's date. Well, back-up date to be exact- which was the only reason I didn't turn down the invite in fear of being "that girl" who returns to her old sorority events in hopes of re-living her college years.

My biological sister serves as the Continuing Education Chair where one of her duties is making sure the seniors are recognized in a special way as they enter the next chapter of their lives. This year, she chose to have a table at formal, on the table was a card for each graduating senior. On my way out, I stopped to write a few words in these cards, all ending with "PC '07 <3 Heather." I made it to the last card before I was flooded with this unrecognizable feeling that came in the form of tears...or for anyone who knows me, hysteria. It was in that moment I realized that we have reached the end of the road in our collegiate journey. Those who are graduating now, are women I began that journey with nearly four years ago as strangers. We set out into the unknown together, side-by-side, and since have conquered all that we were set to endure. We got our big sisters, who (we felt) left us soon before we were ready; we held positions (we though) we would never be able to handle; and we became big sisters, who thought, we would never live up to what our big sisters were to us.

Everything everyone warned us about, preached to us about, got us excited for, prepared for, scared for and yearning for, we saw, we did, we faced, we accomplished, we overcame, we conquered and sometimes, we just figured it out. Those times we didn't, we had the greatest gift of all-- our sisters to lean on, to hold us up and to pull us through it. We had the wise words of those who came before us and our ritual book to hold tight.

Last night, as I turned off the light next to my bed I took a moment to appreciate the picture (and frame) that sits comfortably on my nightstand. It's a picture of my little sister and her little sister (my grandlittle) with Ohana engraved at the bottom, and three perfectly shaped Deltas. I smiled and glanced over at the two gorgeous paddles hanging on my wall, positioned perfectly under my initiation certificated from Tri Delta's Executive Office. It was such a surreal moment; one day I thought I would never see. Emotions ran again.

It's not a specific feeling; it's every feeling all at once. Four years ago I took a chance and a risk to participate in formal recruitment. By means of fate and God's will (and proper ritual procedures, of course) I became a Tri Delta. At that moment, I did not only pave a path for myself, but for my little sister who would- two years later- become my legacy. Whom I helped initiate and who wore (and almost lost) my pin proudly over her heart, for the next year. I never saw it before but I see it now that the leap of fate I took as a fearless 18-year-old freshman has changed the entire course of my life and my little sister's life-- and any daughters or neices we may have in the future.

This experience has taken me from a girl to a lady and now a woman who is ready to face the world alone and confidently, with Tri Delta near and dear to my heart. This has made us all better; has made us willing and able to embark on our newest journey and next chapter of our lives.