One night last week, I was returning from feeding my neighbor's dog. She had to leave unexpectedly when her mother passed away without warning. She said one minute she was on the phone with her brother who said he was at their mother's home with the paramedics and the next her sister was calling to say she had been taken to the hospital but had passed away. My neighbor - my friend - was taken aback. Her mother had been to the hospital on several other occasions for different things but was always alright afterward.

Since we are military, there is a lot of red tape before we can get moving to be with our families in times like these. Especially for her, since her husband is currently in Afghanistan. The Red Cross has to be involved, calls to verify that the loved one did, indeed, pass away, then contacting the military member and maybe, if you're all lucky, getting the military member back for the funeral. They weren't so lucky. Her husband was granted the leave (They didn't have to give it to him. Mothers-in-law don't count as immediate family.) but the family would have had to pay for his entire flight on their own, over $6,000.

This started me thinking about our military way of life and led to thinking about the mortality of my own parents - again. Every since Brad's father passed away earlier this year, I've come back to this thought.

My parents have always been my rock. I always knew that, no matter what, they loved me and were there for me. And even now, as I live 2000 plus miles from them, I know that they'd be there if I truly needed them. The thought of being without them immediately brings tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat. Things have turned out so much differently than I had expected. I guess all I can do is tell them I love them every chance I get, thank them for helping me become who I am, and spend time with them when I can.

Oddly, this post did not begin as a sad one. I had originally started to talk about something that made me smile on the walk home - the fireflies, which reminded me of my youth in Texas. My cousins and I used to chase them and catch them in mason jars. But, after our move to Utah, the fireflies became just a memory. I was so excited to come home and tell Brad about them.... then I dragged him into the backyard to show him, too, all the while bouncing up and down and clapping. I felt like a kid again. No, I didn't chase any but just seeing those flashes of light here, then there....STILL makes me feel good. But, well...my emotions have been from one end of the spectrum to the other lately so I guess it makes sense.

Everyone... take time to see the pretty things.. even while thinking about the... well, not-so-pretty....