I sat across the table, listening to her tell her story. It sounded familiar. She was asking the same questions I had so many times during what felt like a long season of singleness. Sometimes you just need to say the words out loud. “My friend and I made a list when we were younger.
There’s a moment in one of my favorite British TV series where one character ask/yells at another, “ARE YOU HAVING AN EARTHQUAKE?!” The first time I heard it, it made me laugh. That scene has been running through my mind a lot lately.
I spend a lot of time thinking about thoughts. My thoughts -- and everybody else’s thoughts. Especially their thoughts about me. I like to convince myself that I’m good at “reading people.
My niece and nephews gathered around me with wide eyes, waiting to see what mysterious “treat” I was about to unearth from the depths of my purse. Knowing there would be some waiting around at this family wedding, and knowing how hard waiting is for kids, I came prepared. With color changing putty.
I stared at the needle on the table, waiting for the doctor to come back in the room. It took a few minutes longer than I expected, so I snapped a quick photo and sent it to my boyfriend, along with an appropriate caption and wide-eyed emoji, “Soo, this is about to happen.
I stood in front of my mostly packed bag, frozen and staring at the tickets in my hand. I felt my stomach drop, as disappointment washed over me. I had just packed the sparkly shoes, sparkly earrings, and sparkly necklace.
I can feel its invisible presence this week. Like the hot air filling up the inside of a balloon. Only instead of lifting me off the ground in freedom – it feels like I might explode any second. That metaphor took a weird turn and I suddenly feel like I’m talking about pregnancy.
I haven't been journaling a lot lately. I’ve been feeling a little bit paralyzed I guess. And yet there's a lot going on inside me that feels like it needs to be expressed. Or something.
I have a friend who marks the passing of the year by two things. Either "Christmas is coming,” or (when Christmas is over and we are sad,) “the days are getting longer. ” It has become an unspoken tradition between us to send each other notes marking the coming and going of these seasons.
"Doesn't it just fill you with hope?" Keri asks me as we walk slowly out the front doors. I can tell we're both a little reluctant to leave. And no wonder. It's been one of those days, where we get to glimpse behind the curtain. The intangible became tangible.