When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not ready. The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back.
- Paul Coelho
I am not complaining about the crazy though, trust me. After a year like 2011, anyone who clung with me to the threadbare strands of what was left of our industry is likely thrilled to be working 60, 70 and 80 hour weeks. This year just has a much brisker pace to it than years past, and I have a lot more little details spilling out from my brain and onto my calendar, and I have to take the rest and scribble it onto a little notepad that sits next to my bed, just so I don't forget anything.
My style of administrating all the details usually happens best when I weave clients in between all my other life stuff. No two days in my line of work are the same - its coffee, write an offer, bank, check a house value, then research a tax bill, lunch (sitting down if I'm lucky), negotiating a repair, gym, mediating between heirs, and so on. I have gotten very well versed at flexing my time so that I can get the little stuff in my life taken care of, and still be available whenever my clients need me - which is really the name of the game in real estate. Showing up - answering the phone, making the call, saying the hard thing, meeting the client. 99% of real estate is just showing up.
So anyway, yesterday I was trying to see what I could sandwich around a client's request to see a townhome in Dickinson at the tail end of Houston's rush hour. This is typically a 30-45 minute drive for me, but at 6:30 pm, its more like an hour to an hour and a half drive. One way. So, I roped my husband and my boy (affectionately termed "my boys") into making the trip with me, because the little country town of Dickinson is just a hop, skip and a jump from the really fun town of Kemah. The Kemah boardwalk is a man-made destination, just 30-45 minutes outside of downtown Houston, an ace in the hole of Tillman Fertitta enterprises. Anyway, I had visions of sunset, cocktails, dinner and fun on the boardwalk on a quiet Tuesday night, and thankfully my boys threw all their chips in with me on this plan.
So the showing didn't work out - turned out Dickinson is almost a two hour commute for my buyer, so we wrapped up the tour and headed onto Kemah. Part of the fun of the Kemah boardwalk, as most Houstonians know, is the midway. Full of rides and games, ice cream and funnel cakes, the midway is right on the border of the entrance to Galveston Bay, so the views aren't too shabby. From the top of the Ferris Wheel, the bay is clearly visible and dotted with sailboats and speedboats. It takes you up high over the Kemah bridge, the Waterfront Harbor Marina and the massive waters spilling in and out of the gulf. And on this particular night, the Ferris Wheel was the only preschooler friendly ride left open when I made my way to the ticket booth at close to 8pm, the train having closed just minutes before. I wondered if this was in fact the ride my boys would've wanted - its kind of slow and steady, and they can be kind of fast and speedy. They had really wanted the train, after all. Walking back towards them with the three tickets in hand, my husband asked which ride, and with my reply came excitement because that was, in fact, the ride they were hoping for.
It was our first "family" ride - and the Wheel was deserted, cars totally empty except for ours. Which we didn't mind at all, as we had just spent dinner outdoors on the boardwalk surrounded by attack sea gulls. In contrast, The Wheel was quiet and serene as it lifted us around and around its center. My son loved it, my husband even snapped some photos of us, but the best little thing that happened yesterday was thanks to the ride operator. Innocently, he asked as we made our journey down towards him, if we wanted him to slow down the machinery while we were at the top. We said sure, why not, and as we wound around again the machine began to slow itself down, and by the next revolution, there we were, on top of the Ferris Wheel.
And I could actually more accurately say that we were on top of the world. Floating in the cool night air, still. It was a magical moment. I glanced across the car at my husband and it was like we both knew the gift that we'd just received. The sudden, deliberate freezing of the ride was an analogy for that which I have been secretly wishing for - a sudden, deliberate freezing of time. Kind of like where a character in a movie gets suspended over their real life and gets to peek in at life, unbeknownst to others in the plot. Time stopped, and for just a brief pause there we were, suspended in a gently rocking car, the three of us. And I totally got what Brian Andreas so eloquently states when he says "time stands still best in moments that look suspiciously like ordinary life". The inner turmoil that has come from some recent discoveries about possible issues regarding my health and contemplation about how things might shake out for our future were both silenced as the gift of the current moment frozen in time spilled out through a few tears. It was a moment unlike any other that I have ever had. And in it, I think Mark and I both drew a deep breath and some deep courage about who we are and where we are headed. Sometimes, it really does take a complete removal of one's self from reality to get a grip on what's true - what's unchanging - what's deep and meaningful and filled with soul. And to think we got that for $12.99 plus tax at a carnival ride just makes me smile a little bigger. The little things really can be way more amazing than the big things. This moment was way more amazing.
It felt like forever until the wheel budged our car in its descent back into reality. I have never wanted to thank a ride operator so much in my life - really I wanted to jump over the railing, run down the ramp and hug him for the little gift he gave us. We exited the little ride and went on to walk the boardwalk one last time before heading home. After that experience I couldn't resist Ryan's request to run through the sprinklers at the end of the walk. With a renewed vigor for being daring and for celebrating moments, he reached out and grabbed each of us with his hands, and exclaimed "ready, go, now!" (which I think meant ready, set, go), and off we were, the three of us, tempting fate as we dashed wholeheartedly into the randomly timed sprinklers again and again, trying to avoid getting totally soaked, laughing like crazy through the entire length of the run.
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