Departures

I took him to the airport for his 20 hour journey to Israel. Somehow I was still wiping tears when I got back to Mt Prospect. He's going to an actual war zone. Missiles in the sky, for real. Last thing I said was "IloveyouIhadsomuchfunwithyouyesterday" and didn't give him a chance to say "I love you" back. But I heard it clearly in the early hours of the day when he thought I was asleep. Feels so childish to still have hang ups around those words. We spent a good part of my therapy session talking about whether I even mean it when I say those words. I only said it to my ex husband the first couple of years. Then the infatuation wore off, and I still said it, only it felt like I was telling a pet hamster, or some poor thing that needed to be told to calm its fears. It's possible I've never felt real love. I was just raised on mindless tv and Hollywood movies that taught me the words to say to make glamorous moments out of what would otherwise be emptiness. Maybe I say it because it calms my fears. The last photo booth photo we took...he said "you look sad!" I can't explain it, I thought I felt pretty good. Wish we did one more. It's too late now.

We had two hours to kill between wedding events. We went to the mall. Ate ice cream. Talked. Laughed. I told him I'm not ready to move in with anyone. Would be so much easier to sort this out if I didn't love our time together.

One year later I stood up to creepy train dude

It had to be over a year ago when I had an odd encounter with a man, Indian, probably 50, who sidled too close to me on the double seat on the train. He did it so slowly, with each scheduled stop pushing his elbow more into my space, until I noticed him look around at the last stop before the train expressed ahead, and then he let his legs wander next to mine, touching, blocking me in. By this time I was so flustered and confused that someone would think this acceptable, that I jerked myself up out of my seat and glared and could only say "MOVE." I wanted to tell an engineer but I felt violated and was too nervous to form words.

Today I was sitting in a window seat, preoccupied with shopping on my phone, when I got the feeling it was happening again. I looked at him and the words came a little more easily this time. "Oh my God, it's you again. Can you stop touching me with your arm? It's creepy and it's not the first time." He pulled back but acted dumb like he didn't understand. So I said louder, "It's creepy, stop touching me like that! Fuck." It felt so goooooood!!!!!

So was I traumatized by all those years if commuting on the subway among the pants-shitters and ass grinders, with nowhere to go, no other option for transit? Indeed, I was a scared kid, afraid to lose my job, my boyfriend, and my studio apartment. I had a cat to feed, after all, so I just had to fight my way through. Take what they gave me. Endure.

Look at me now. I dumped a husband, waved goodbye to in-law pampering, raised a kid alone, bought my own home, ran a 10 mile race, climbed some mountains and shit. I'm still alive, just like the old classic rock song by Pearl Jam.

And yet, every day I walk in this door, going on 13 years, I become that stupid scared girl again.

Powerless.

Dad says a car ran into a light pole earlier today, and maybe that's why power is out in my building.

So...wine? Candle? Book? Ok.

No.

I don't want to give up my single mom life. Not yet. Not in exchange for living among 3-4 other people with different dietary needs and sports and clubs and friends. I'm so not ready.

I like my life. My little home. My big fluffy bed. My girl. My cats. My filthy, nearly empty fridge. My Christmas decorations and music. Bacon on Saturday mornings. TV on Friday nights.

And I still think I might fall in love someday. On my own schedule.

Cy Twombly and Tommy Ramone...is there a third?

Random title. But when I woke up to Michael singing a Ramones song...why? Because Tommy Ramone just died...I realized we are similarly morbid, Michael and me.

So. Checking in. 1st day back to work after vacay is always cool and delightful, sharing tales of faraway states, unusual lodging, foods I ate or refused to eat, or in this case, drugs.

It just feels good right now. Stress is low. Money is due but money is coming in. It all feels manageable. Photos are still fresh in my photo stream. Sort of like I'm still there, wishing my coffee had that rich taste like that morning in Boulder. A wonderful sadness of wishing I was still suspended in time in a new and beautiful place. And yet the feeling that anything is possible, that I'm still slightly suspended.

Correction: Cy Twombly has been dead for 2 years. Someone reposted an old obit, and I neglected to fact check. Guess I'm looking for 2 other celebrities to pass on now...

Nederland, CO 80302

Almost packed!

Cant get over my uneasiness about being indoors on such a ridiculously beautiful day. But alas, someone has to pack. A reward will come later, possibly a short run to get my legs ready for the mountains.