Two years ago at this time, I was moving into my own apartment. It was sad and horrible, and I think it took me a while to realize the shock of it all. I remember feeling- about a month into it- like I should be over it, and I see now that I was still shocked then and for several months after that. I think it was around six months later that I looked up, still feeling bruised to the bone, wondering how it could have possibly been that long ago. It still feels odd, but odd because my current life is what feels normal. This apartment, this hairstyle, being on my own...
Shock protects you, but it can also kill you. I think I have been emerging from the shock, but long after I thought. I wonder if I still am, and how long I will be. I saw a friend the other day and she was proud of me for ending things with Sparky. She found it so promising that I was able to end something that was not right for me, and to be the one to walk away. Being a coworker, she was one of very few who nursed me through every day of that nightmare. Writing that, I am struck by her kindness and wonder what on earth I can do to acknowledge it and show my heartfelt appreciation. When I saw her, she pointed out some things I said about Chris and how I had just been proven wrong. I think I knew that somewhere underneath, but to have it named like that brought it up to the surface.
So here I am in Virginia after a long day of traveling. We ate a lovely dinner and sat around the table and talked- such a simple family tradition that I rarely get these days. It felt comfortable and warm and good, like it should, and I am happy to be here. I haven't been back here since this whole mess, and it's nice to be among family- the bustling and bickering and gentle, usually happy chaos that comes with out-of-town visitors and weddings. It's nice to be a member of this family, to fall into place and be reassured that that my place here exists regardless of everything else that changes. And yeah, that will change too, someday, but I look around here and see the same books as when I moved here 13 years ago when I left the Air Force and Bryan. I know the stories of this house and my family, and I have a pretty good idea of what the week ahead will look like with these people I know so well.
On Sunday, my anniversary of wreckage will become a much happier memory- a celebration of Tracy and Dave's wedding, with family and food and questionable dancing on the part of a tipsy maid of honor. I will raise a toast to my sister and be glad to know that it's true that
Love is out there waiting somewhere
You just have to go and find it.
