Pressing On

I'm not a fan of excising.  Let's just get that out of the way.  I have had the hardest time setting a schedule to 'work out' and sticking to it for more than a few weeks.  The best intentions right?  Now, that's not to say I don't get out and move.  I walk the dogs.  I love to hike.  And I have a seasonal love affair with my bike.  See riding is my 'me time'.  I tend to take 'me time' once or twice a week from the time it warms up to 50° until it cools back down to 50°. The wind in my face.  The burn in my thighs.  The sound of the tires crunching in the aggregate.  The freedom to think and feel without interruption.  Love my 'me time'.  But I don't think of it as exercise.  There is no consistency.  I do it as I need it.

I promised Myka (That would be my sweet ride. A beautiful 16in, 2008 Specialized Myka Sport. White with red butterflies 'tearing' out of the frame. A pretty sweet ride indeed.) that after the Tour de Cure, I would take her in for a tune up and cleaning.  Afterall, a happy bike means a happy ride. And she deserves it. And I've taken my sweet time getting her in.  So I felt I needed to do something else to get out and move.  I think we all know what's coming...

                                                               Myka. She's pretty sweet.


I took up running.  Well I move my legs more than walking and bounce a little. Running would be a generous description of what I am actually doing.  But I'm doing it.  And not some fancy 'couch to 5k training' program.  Been there, tried that, FAILED.  And I hated it.  I tied my old worn out shoes and was determined to do it.  So I did. I walked to the preserve a half mile away from the house and picked a spot and said 'I will run there' and went.  And when I got to that point I stopped, stretched, and picked a new spot.  And so on.  I walked and ran 3 miles that first time.  And I went home and took a shower and felt ok.  Not bad for my first run since high school.

I woke up the next morning and felt awful.  I was incredibly sore.  My feet hurt and were completely stressed out.  My knees were on fire.  Muscles I didn't realized I had even used were audibly ticked off with me.  And I wanted to cry.  'This is why I don't run.'  'What the hell was I thinking?'  Work was painful.  And I knew it would be weeks before I would do that again.

And it was.  3 weeks.  To be fair, Tour was the week after the run and there was NO way I was going to stress my body out while I was in the final stages of training for 30 miles.  I don't know what it was.  I just couldn't quit this time.  I needed to move while I was waiting for Myka to be done at the shop.  I needed to find 'me time' with the 2 dogs at home (who always need to be in the exact same spot I am).  I am stubborn to a fault sometimes.  I looked up a few tips and picked out that I thought would help.

I decided to tape my feet for arch support (a little trick from playing soccer).  The only tape I had was painters tape.  So I used it.

                                                 Pre-Run injury prevention. Thanks 3M:-p

Carry the water bottle was stressful on my hands (I clutched it until I thought it would tear).  So I grabbed one of my running shirts with the pockets in the back.  Fits the water bottle perfectly.  Bonus: I can carry my inhaler in the pocket and not carry it either, AND my phone fits in the 3rd pocket: running tunes!

My feet went numb.  I found a site that suggested threading my laces 'straight' at the top of my foot not in an X pattern.  So I did.

And I went out.

I had a path in mind that combined walking and running and stuck to my plan.  I moved slower than a turtle, but I pressed on.  I went 4 miles, with about half of it actually running.  I got home sweaty and exhausted.  I did what I set out to do.  And I felt pretty darn proud of myself.  The next morning was sore, but not awful.  The little tricks made a big difference.  And I made myself do it again 2 days later.  I wasn't going to give up.


And I haven't so far.  I plan out my runs for Tuesday and Thursday nights.  This way when the school year starts again, this will still fit into my schedule.  I am slow.  But I press on.


I have a blister that covers the complete instep of my right foot.  It is extremely sore to the touch.  It finally dried out and broke open last night half way through my run.  But I  press on.


I have so many bug bites.  They have welted in spots and are impossible not to itch raw.  But I press on.


The tendons in my feet are tearing and healing after each run as they get used to the impact.  There are a few mornings it's been hard to walk.  But I press on.


My neck and shoulders are stiff from my running posture.  I am learning how to hold myself correctly, but it's a process.  It's interrupted my sleep a few nights.  But I press on.


I feel a bizarre sense of accomplishment after I finish each run.  I can actually feel my body responding and getting stronger with every mile.  After 6 consistent runs, I can see physical changes in my body.  My thighs are tighter.  I've lost inches around my middle.  My arms are slimmer.  (My tush looks great!)  I never set out to lose weight or even really change anything.  I just wanted to get out and move and my normal mode of outdoor movement was in the shop.  I understand how people can say running is addicting.  I have found my mantra 'each step is one more than yesterday'.

I'm not sure how I can say this, but I'm pretty sure running will stick.  I still don't 'like' it, but I love how it makes me feel.  Powerful.  Accomplished.  I know I can set reasonable goals that are tangible.  I've already met a few.  I am enjoying the challenge.  I even rewarded my feet last night with a new pair of shoes.  Happy feet means a happy run right?

                                                               Pressing on...in style.

Growing Up

One day you wake up, look in the mirror, and realize: you are a grown up.  No fanfare.  No big party to celebrate.  No milestone.  Just the realization that getting up, putting on slacks, mentally running through the list of 'to dos' at the office that morning while walking the dog, and sitting in rush hour traffic is the norm.  It's been routine for so long, you don't remember sleeping in, going to class, or worrying about what to wear to the party on Friday (ok let's be honest...I never actually worried about that).

Now it's: do I need milk? did I pay the eye doctor bill? when is the warranty up on the fridge?  The toilet is running, I should get new parts and fix it this weekend.  Ooo...there is a sale on linens!  And I'd love to say these are just examples thought up, but they are actual thoughts I have had in the last 2 weeks.  Normal, everyday, real grown up thoughts.  

I always assumed that growing up would happen with a life event to herald in this monumental life change.

Turning 18.  That makes you a legal grown up.  You can vote, join the army, enter into contracts.  A full fledged 'grown up'.  But it didn't feel so different than 17.  Or 19 for that matter.

Going to college.  Anyone who says that going to college is 'experiencing the real world' is lying. Perhaps it was the small, private, fairly isolated college I went to, but it was the furthest thing from being an adult.  Living with your friends, only having 4 hours of class most days, maybe working 2 hours, and spending the rest of the night eating pizza, watching Friends, and 'studying' was the ultimate childhood sleep over for 4 years.

That first real job.  Making an actual paycheck that will cover more than pizza and movies.  Being partly responsible for the bottom line and day to day running on an actual company.  Even getting an apartment and paying bills felt less than accomplished.  I was still grasping for that grown up feeling.

Buying my first house.  Signing the papers (and the heart attack that come with the final price after the interest).  Being handed the keys.  Even the very grown up house warming gifts of appliances and furniture.  It was all very exciting, but it didn't feel any more adult (maybe because it was actually less money) than signing the student loans. I expected it to feel more.  I expected the trumpets, the heart pounding, the 'now you are a real grown up' feeling.  But it wasn't the light switch I was expecting.

Growing up was a quiet event.  All the experiences of adult hood entwining together to form this strong, scarred, hodgepodged adult with a life full of responsibilities and obligation.  Full of adventure, laughter, and friendship holding all the pieces together.  Full of experiences, knowledge, and empathy sought out for advice and leadership.  A beautiful, complicated, busy life.

Realization came the day I brought home my new puppy.  The decision was not made in haste, it was measured and weighed.  Would my 'first born' accept a new member into our pack?  Was the energy level of the puppy compatible with the almost 6 year old?  Could I reassure 'first born' that he was not being replaced?  Would I be able to take the appropriate time during the day to walk and feed the puppy?  Research was done for the best way to aid in the transition.  Slow introductions were made.  New items were bought weeks ahead of the puppy so the oldest could get used to their placement.  We had sleepovers before bringing puppy home permanently.  Family was introduced to puppy outside of the home so the oldest would't be jealous at the attention.  There was a lot of excitement, but the transition was deliberate, careful, and well planned.

I sat on the couch the first night our pack was together, and it occurred to me that this was the most intentional decision I had ever made.  Not which college.  Not the house.  Not even the 'first born' was made with such careful consideration.  It wasn't about how cute the puppy was.  It wasn't about how much I wanted the puppy.  It was about considering how it would effect the 'first born'.  It was how it would all fit together.  I looked at the dogs asleep next to me, in the basement of my house, after a long day at work, and I realized: I wasn't sure when or how I got here, but I was here.  I was officially a grown up.  And I found peace in that thought.  I have endured and weathered the constant battering of growing up, and now the foundation was solid.  The waves will roll.  They always roll.  But I have survived.  I am standing here with a confidence that only comes with experience.  I'm proud of the scares.  I'm happy to my bones.  I have arrived.  And I think I like it.
   

Chaos

[Enter Post Title Here]

And yet, amidst the chaos and pain, the show must go on.

And as my wise friend added…and yet, amidst the sadness, love endures and sustains.

Yesterday I wasn’t feeling the greatest.  I was still recovering from a small bout of food poison that left my stomach in ruins on Monday.  I needed to get out on the bike.  My last 2 rides were too far apart and both felt awful.  My muscles hurt, my breathing was off, I felt wiped after both rides…and they were only 8.5 miles.  My shortest in months. I have 3 loads of laundry that need to be put away.    My house needs to be cleaned.  Really cleaned.  Top to bottom cleaned and organized before we get into production.  I have a grant to revise and get out for comments before we go into production.  I have work to catch up on after being out on Monday.  I have work to catch up on since I am still doing more than my job title can handle.  I have work to catch up on because with all the other things, I am very easily distracted.  I feel pulled in a million different directions and it’s stressing me out.  My life feels like chaos.  I knew yesterday was not going to be a great day before I even got out of bed.  I had no idea how true those thoughts would turn out to be.

I arrived late at work after trying to calm a headache (not enough water Monday).  I felt out of sorts and unprepared for my Tuesday meeting.  But I was going to make the most of it and get as much done as I could.  I ran my reports, got my first count done for the day, returned a few phone calls.  Behind, but moving forward; not a terrible start to a day.  All I needed was a little I Heart Radio to motivate me to keep going.  And that’s when I saw the smiley text message icon.  Why are they smiley?  The information in that text was nothing to smile about.  It was about to turn my whole day on its head…and it had barely started.

One of my best friends sent a text: Her mother-in-law had suffered a ruptured aneurysm and had been airlifted from East Grand Forks to Abbot Northwestern Hospital in the cities.  They had run all the reflex and EEG tests Monday night.  They indicated no response.  They were running them again at noon.  Please pray.

Nothing brings life into clearer focus than sudden tragic news.  Problems become trivial when you hear of life and death struggles so close to home.  Your heart stops.  Stomach drops.  You forget to breathe.  Your eyes overflow.  And you forget to worry about all the little things.  Even if only for a few moments.  And the only thing that matters in those few precious moments is love. 

Those moments are a reminder that life is fragile and truly unpredictable.  That the only thing we can give to one another that is lasting is our feelings…good or bad…and the words and actions that accompany them.  Those moments are spent thinking of the people that continually change your life.  Those that waking up without tomorrow would be unbearable.  You recall last conversations; did you make sure to tell them you loved them?  When was the last time you reached out and just let them know you think about them?  You start to write mental letters to send, jump on Facebook to say a quick hello, grab your phone to send that text.  You tuck these people a little tighter in your heart, because right now, that’s where you need them most. 

The next moments are spent alternately thinking of those you’ve hurt.  The conversations that ended cruelly.  Words that were said that you want to take back right now, even if you meant them at the time.  Wounds resurface and guilt springs anew.  You find yourself wishing you could change the outcome, just so you wouldn’t feel so badly about it right now.  Mostly, you wish that if you left this world right now, this would not be how they would remember you.     

Then you return the real moment.  One of those people that you love is hurting.  And you can’t take it away.  There is no magic cure.  All you can offer is a shoulder, a kind word, an offer to handle the mundane things that are needed to keep the rest of the world moving.  There are animals that need to be fed.  Phone calls that need to be made.  Mail needs to be checked.  Food must be consumed.  For them the world has stopped.  Time is a holding pattern.  The ‘show is going on’ without them for a time.  All you can do is love them until the answers are known.

For my friend, there is no happy ending.  No joyful insights.  The second test confirmed the first, there was no response.  The damage was too great.  The machines were keeping her body alive, but her soul was gone.  I know there is nothing I can do for her or her husband but be here to support them in their grief.  All those things I needed to do yesterday are not as important today.  Making sure they take the time to eat and sleep is.  Taking care of them so they can take care of each other.  Their life is in chaos.  I cannot make the pain go away, but I can try and contain some of the chaos.  In the end, all they are left with, all we are left with, is the love we have for each other.  It is all we have to sustain and carry us through when the rest of the world pushes on, and ours is standing still.

Popularity Contest

You've heard people say it again and again: life is not some big popularity contest. It's meant to mean well. To cheer us up when something just doesn't add up the way we want it. It's meant to raise our self esteem. To make us feel better about something. To make is feel we are all equal. But when you really break it all down, isn't this all a lie?

Life really is one big popularity contest. It is who you know. It's how people perceive you. And yes ladies, it is about how you look. And I'm not being a negative Nancy. It's not always a bad thing. Popularity is subjective, and it's not permanent. I might be popular at church, but not as much at work. Popular means 2 different things in this context. Popular at church means people know who I am. I am reliable, passionate about 'my' kids, trustworthy. There's a reason I've been asked to be on council twice in 6 years. Popularity equals dedication. It's a mixed blessing.

At work, I am popular when there is a problem. In all seriousness, if I was up for a position against say Diana, no contest she would get it. She's outgoing. She's a customer people person. She understands corporate wine and dine. I work in the trenches. I deal with boring things like buying things and keeping inventory correct. Important yes. But certainly not glamorous. I'm practical. The joke is if you hear from me, something is wrong. I work behind the scenes to make the boss look good. And in this context, I'm ok with not being popular. The only edge I would have is with a regulatory position. I can do mundane details and government bureaucracy. Most people would rip their hair out. I say bring it on.

And it's deeper than just this. Being 30 and single, I'm not the first person to be noticed when I go out. I'm short, slightly overweight, and (gulp) starting to go grey. I'm not 20, blond, and skinny. And yes men are attracted to different types, but stereotypes exist because there is some truth behind them. Might not be fair, but it is real. I am not outgoing. I'm not going to try and get attention with my actions, looks, and attitude. I'm not 'popular'. Never have been and never will be. But I can offer more once popular gets old. Loyalty. I'm not looking for the next 'high'. I'm not interested in the 'right' party, bar opening, or celebrity. I'm will still be the same person tomorrow. I'm not constantly looking for more. Social popularity relies on fads. Loyalty doesn't. I'd rather be loyal than popular.


So why this sudden tangent? I threw a party the other day. I planned it and invited people 4 weeks in advance. Theme: tacky Christmas...in June. I invited 40 people. Most people declined. Why? I'm just not that popular. People like me. Let's make that clear. A lot of people like me. I get invited to other peoples parties. But I'm now known for being a fun outgoing person (ok I think that's pretty well established now). Obviously my party wasn't going to be wild and crazy, fun yes, but in a 'social gathering' kind of way. I'm really seen as a dinner party in a formal dining room with table cloths, napkins, and candle sticks kind of person. Which is probably pretty true. My parties will never be crazy, but the food will be awesome. I leave crazy to the friends with the pool. And they are very popular. Their parties are well attended. Why? They are fun and crazy. I had a small showing with lots of laughter and great food (I made a pretty awesome cranberry pineapple salsa). And it was fun. But it made me realize that being popular does count for something. There are immediate benefits to being outgoing, good looking, and passionate. But popularity is fleeting. It gets bored easily. It's never ready to settle. And once it's gone, what remains is loyalty, dependability, and good food. I'll keep my small group of friends, laughter, and new recipes. It might be fun to be more popular...for a while. there are doors that would be open that are not now. My life might be very different. But what would I have lost? I'm not sure if I'd be satisfied. So maybe 'plain Jane' has its advantages.

posted from Bloggeroid

Resurrection

Wow, my first post in...well a long time. It was my hope a better phone meant more blogging. In reality it means more distractions. More Facebook. More twitter. More YouTube (scary, auto correct knows that word). More ways to stay current, and yet more ways to disconnect. See it's not that I haven't been writing, I've just found more solace going low tech. There are several pass of paper around my house with words, thoughts, ponderings, musings scribbled across them. I love to write. and nothing will ever replace the joy of a blank piece of paper and a good pen. Even the script I wrote for River City Theatre Company was mostly written in a notebook.

I find I can be more ethereal on paper. Scratch out, write over, rearrange. More organic. There is no back space. No delete. The original is always there. Maybe it's that I can be more honest. Look at it; digest it before I share it. I can refine it. I can hide more. I can add more layers so it isn't as naked and exposed. I'm all for honesty. But there is a fine line between being open and being sensational. I share what I feel, but I never look for pity or even understanding. Sometimes it's just easier to put it out there for people to read than to have to say the same things to multiple people. And if someone reads my ramblings and can relate and suddenly doesn't feel so alone, then I've done a bit of good.

So I have more to share. This year...the last few months have been quite a journey. Sometimes victorious, sometimes painful, but always beautiful. So if you can bare with (and Swype and Auto correct...which both are out to get me), I'll share more. I promise.

posted from Bloggeroid

Character Assassination

I am in shock. The pain of what you insinuate, nay what you speak as though truth, cuts me to the core. I will never see you the same way again. And deep down even you know it's not true. But it will not stop you from using your malicious lies to poison people against me. What have I done to deserve this kind of treatment? What could possibly justify trying, and in some cases succeeding, to create bold lies to turn opinions against me? Why the assassination?

For the record, I NEVER was unfaithful to our relationship. I take commitment seriously. I would never want to be the one on the other end, so I would never put anyone else there either. When I say yes, I go in full hearted. I am loyal to a fault. I could not live with myself or the guilt of breaking that commitment. My morals are not ambiguous. To be unfaithful is to consciously disrespect and hurt the person you are committed to. It is the deepest and most complete way to destroy another human being. The thought of it makes me sick. I would not wish that kind of pain on ANYONE. And in general, when I make a commitment, I see it through to the bloody, sometimes, painful end. And I do so with a clear conscious. And it is not a part of my character that I can hide. It is written in my actions. And to even imply contrary is incorrect. But that doesn't stop you, does it?

You make the claim I did not honor the commitment I made to you. You are lying. And if you honestly believe your own words, then you never knew me. You claim I betrayed you, I question when? I may have hurt you, but that does not excuse maligning my character.

You claim 'your friends' hate me. But how could they form such a strong dislike without fuel. You have purposely spread rumors to ensure people would take 'your side' in the battlefield that only exists in your mind. I am not fighting against you; you are fighting against you. But you have made others believe they have to take sides. You have become a very petty person. I would never ask a friend to chose. There are people who believe the lies you have started. What does that say about them? They judge based not on fact, but on your anger and hurt. You have destroyed my friendships with these lies. But that is what you want, isn't it? You need someone to be as miserable as you are. You need someone to dwell in your hurt and anger as well. You have succeeded. There are people I will no longer talk to knowing you have been spreading your poison. I will not exist in your counter reality or answer to the inquisition you sentence me to. And the weak souls who blindly sway because of your filth are not people I want to surround myself with. I have walked away from MY friends because of you. I will never forget that.

What you have done is petty. You demean yourself as well. You show your own true character by doing this. You may have attacked me with your words, but what have your actions done to you? Truth is hard to extinguish. It finds a way to burn through the darkness. When it does, how will you look? Will it be your words or your actions that will speak the loudest?

posted from Bloggeroid

The aftermath

It’s over. The night has ended. Everyone is home. Everyone is safe. And I am left with all of this. The feelings. The emotions. The numbness and yet intense pain.

He arrived early. Probably for the best. Let us get a firm footing before adding others to the mix. I was talking to my neighbor. I was trying to prolong being alone with him. To acknowledging he was here. In the flesh. After 8 years. It was happening. The reconnection. I hid for a few mins. Trying to assess what was happening. How this was going to work. He was here. And I wasn’t sure how to react. But I was happy. The moment is still fresh. I can still see it. The car. His tentative smile. Mine in return. It was him. A few years older. But the eyes and the smile were the same. We stood there awkwardly for a few seconds. Pretending we knew what to do and this was no big deal. The years and the miles scorched away for a few seconds. We were just us. Two friends. Separated by only a few days, months maybe, but not years. We stepped inside. Alone for the first time. And he opened his arms. Everything melted away. Here he stood. One of my best friends from yesterday. His embrace was gentle and warm and I gladly accepted it. Was grateful for the offer. It is a moment I will lock away. In that hug was relief, comfort, forgiveness, and maybe just a little bliss. A chance for us each to atone for the silence. A moment I may never forget. We were there. Two friends. The past intermingled with the now. Whatever came next we could handle.

Then words. Trying to fill the space. Still slightly uncomfortable what to say. A silent understanding to leave the past unspoken for now. Try and fill the space of now. A tour of my home. To introduce him to the me of today. The 30 seconds of catch up carefully avoiding the few landmines that hung there. The mention of the girlfriend. Joy and sorrow truly mixed. Joy that he has found peace. Sorrow for the conversations that might never happen. It would be unfair of me to remind him of the wounds. I know I will like her. I see what she has done for him. She must be amazing. And honestly, I can’t wait to meet her. She is going to give up everything to be with him, and he is willing to let her. She must be wonderful. He loves her deeply. And I know I will love her too. In time. If he lets me.

Sorrow. A sorrow I didn’t know I would feel. The finality is there. There is no chance to rekindle anything. Confusion whether I wanted to. We were in the past. Our present is not connected to that time. He is committed. I respect that. I will support him because he needs that. He deserves that. And I am genuinely happy for him. Even though I died a little. My heart sank yet soared. And it came to me. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. I love him. The intensity stole the breath from my lungs for a moment. I love him. Still. Truly. Honestly. Profoundly. He was some mysterious sway over me even years later. After all the silence. After the non answers. The anger. The frustrations. The pain. It’s still there. Pulling my heart in a direction it forgot. I would be content to be by his side. But he has chosen another. And my heart is warmed to see him happy. And I am not miserable to know this, yet crushed that fate has been sealed.

But I thought I was past this. All of this. Past him. Past the connection my heart felt when we were together. Past the stabbing pain when someone would mention his name. Past never being able to look at his picture. I had moved forward as well. Loved another. Was content with another. Have I been lying to myself? Was the ex right? Do I still ‘pine’ for him? Will I always love him? Does that mean I will not be able to fully love another? Or will speaking it make it less powerful? Or is the heart simply wondrous enough to find room for it all? Do I want this feeling to go away? I just wasn’t prepared to feel this way. Anger, yes. Joy, yes. Love…no. I cherish those few minuets we had alone. To let the range of emotions sweep over me. To give me a chance to just experience them. I am not sure if I hid them from him. I tried. It would be unfair of me to show him this.

People arrived. Hellos all around. I gave him space to reacquaint with others. To get to know them again too. To reconnect with the others from yesterday. I think he needed us. Needed to be surrounded by people who once knew him. People who still support him. People who will surround him if he will let us. We want to be his friends. We want him to know he’s welcome here. That when he hits these crossroads, he’s not alone.

The evening was spent laughing. Joking. Catching up. Talking about nothing in particular. Grilling, eating, drinking. The things we all did best. The things we all enjoy. The conversation flowed. No one brought up the silence. No one asked why. We just accepted that today was today and it was good enough for all of us. It was fun. It was enjoyable. It was healing. And it was needed. It had been too long. We are not the same. But that didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends. We could forgive and forget and be in the moment. I hope others felt this way. I hope it will happen again. I hope that it was a beginning. Because I don’t want to cut him out. No matter how I feel.

I want you to be happy; even while my heart is crumbling. Exposed to the cruel light of reality. A reality I didn’t know existed. A reality I think I didn’t want to know. It hurt. I looked through my pictures from college tonight. An album I keep in a drawer. I haven’t looked at them in a long time. I have 10 pictures of us. Images that set my heart ablaze. 10 pictures of a time when we were us before all of this. 10 pictures that I can only look at on occasion because they make me sad. They remind me of your loss, both love and kinship. But tonight, I wanted to remember. Because tonight I remembered how much I love you. I know now that I love you enough to stand by you and celebrate your love to someone else. I love you enough to finally let you go. Enough to see how happy you are. To know that the musings of who we were and what we might have been are mine and mine alone. I love you enough to keep the thoughts of who we could be buried. And finally move on for real. You are wonderful, complicated, and amazing. Please understand though how much my heart is aching for you. How hard this is for me. And how much I wish you all the happiness the world can offer. How much I have no intention of ever telling you any of this. I love you enough for this.

We are something special when our lives intersect. I desire, more than anything else, to be your friend. You make me better. Your friendship makes me whole. You complete me in your understanding of me. Your ability to put my mind at peace proves that. We are friends. I’ve missed you, my friend. I have shed tears tonight for all we could have been. For all the memories of a future my mind had long forgotten. For all that we have missed all these years. The connection still thrives. Our lives will forever intersect.

I have cried to God himself for guidance. You need to be happy and complete. And so do I. And if being on the sidelines means being able to be your friend, then I will be there. I know I will find that kind of love too. The completeness that comes from entwining my life to another. We will both find it. All we’ve searched for. And it won’t be together. My tears will be answered. Our hearts will be filled. But please, dear Matthew, promise we will be friends. That’s all I ask you. That’s what I pray for. That tonight is not good bye. That the last few hours were a breathtaking hello. That the foundation has been laid to a new kind of kinship. I pray also that tomorrow the light will be warm and kind and the offer of friendship will be there. That the healing can be completed.

I promise you my heart will heal. The pain will lessen. The smile on my lips will be real. This time I have closure. The thing I was denied before. I have heard the truth from you. It won’t stop me from loving you. But it also won’t change my desire to be your friend. It’s been a long time, and I have missed you. Don’t let this be goodbye.