returning

Today is officially the first day of summer (even though it’s technically the fifth). How do I know? Well, I am at my coffee shop, I didn’t have to wait for my favorite seat, and I am absolutely petrified to begin working on the novel again (which is part of the reason I am blogging when I am already behind schedule). The trip to Missouri went smoothly. Although I am always nervous around people, it was so great to see the two people I love most from my childhood, that I trust with all of me. It was hard to see my mom’s sister and know what a hard life she has, but glad we got the chance to see her. I always forget how much I hate the drive across Kansas (and how the people make me feel like I’ve entered a very. . . um. . . tacky version of the twilight zone—tacky was the nice word choice—let’s just say, it’s one of the few times I feel skinny) however, my brother can make anything funny, so we had a good time and watched a ton of movies.

I got home yesterday to the call I was afraid I’d receive, the breakup of my friends happened and one of them called me. Even at the first syllable, my heart dropped. I knew that sound so well. Not really sure if I had ever heard it come from anyone else but me. And I knew how I’d find him when I walked into his home. When I made that sound I was always on the floor, always in the fetal position, and always praying for death.

On one hand, I am glad I can give of myself in away that can genuinely say, I know how you feel. I know what you’re going through, and I know what awaits you if the man you thought you’d marry decides not to come back.

On the other, I kept going back and forth between an almost cold, removed demeanor, and being plunged into the dark ocean of my memories of the day/s Chad left me, and the emotions that I am still trying to bury. I couldn’t figure out how to balance how to be there for my friend without submering myself into my own agony. In that sense, I don’t think I was able to help him very much. And, part of me is jealous that he has a reason that he can understand why the boyfriend left. I still can’t wrap my head around a reason for myself—except that I wasn’t enough. However, I bet he’s jealous of me, he’d probably rather not have a reason.

I pray that their situation turns out differently. That they both choose to love and to work through things, not simply take the easy way—like everyone seems to do.

All of it is a choice. The choice to love. The choice to stay. The choice to forgive. The choice to fall out of love. It’s a choice. It’s a commitment. It’s the only thing can last, the choice. It seems that most humans aren’t able to choose and then continue to choose.

I’m glad I waited to blog about this last night. If I had done it in the middle of all we were going through last night, this would have been ten pages.

Wish me luck on loosing myself in the pages of the novel. And luck in the upcoming steps. Thanks!