Me. Outside the Chelsea Hotel. I nearly cried I was so happy. The words, oddly, don't come as easily for me, standing here. Love, people. Complete love. And nothing but happiness and joy.
And, well, the tres leche donut next door didn't hurt.
I was here the first time many years ago. Under wildly different life situations. I was divorced and trying to figure it all out. I knew I had Isaac waiting at home, ready to propose. I knew I would say yes. But I had lingering doubts if the years previous were regrettable. Or forgettable. Or if I had done enough. And what they all meant. I spent that time wandering with my roommate, happy, but thoughtful. Loving New York. Spending a lot of time in quiet contemplation. I came up with some answers. By the end of the trip I knew. I didn't regret that marriage. I loved him and I know he loved me. I knew it was right; still know it was the right thing to do when I did it. I would do it again, should my life play on repeat. Even knowing the ending. I had loved deeply. I had my heart broken badly. I messed up. I did everything right. I absolutely had the extremes of life. There were months of confusion and hurt, but also times of great joy. It was short. It was passionate. It was storms and sunshine and everything all at once in those few years. I figured that all out, the last time I was here. And once I had, my thoughts turned to Isaac.
Every turn I made, the rest of the week, I wished he was there with me instead of waiting for me at home. I wished he had asked me to marry him already instead of waiting on better timing. I wished our marriage had started already instead of having to go through the three months we ended up waiting. Once my mind was right, I wanted it to just be. I never wanted to be away from him again.
I'm not sure what brought about the maudlin. Perhaps being here and seeing a true regret - not ever living here...writing here - brings to mind the big things that aren't really regrets that have tenuous grips on this city. That first trip was a turning point in my life in so many ways. And now. Being back. I have no regrets with my past life. I know that. I'm now with Isaac at every turn and that is the true source of joy in my life. But this city. This city...it speaks to me. It plays with my thoughts. It makes me think of everything that has happened since the last time I was here, internally and ex. Those thoughts I had the last time I was here. That life changing trip plays in my thoughts and dance around, taunting me to live in the past. I've given in momentarily, but find that I much prefer to live in the now. Watching the magic of the city through the eyes of my son. The eyes of my love. My eyes. Being grateful that while I regret never living here, I'm here now, if only briefly. Soaking up the feelings. Soaking up the sounds. Words falling onto paper faster than I can keep up. Regret is heavy, but the things I regret are different than one would expect. Life is like that, sometimes. It dictates things that are unexpected. Regret happens when you've missed an opportunity and as that first trip taught me, I don't regret the relationships I've had, only the experiences I've missed. I'm even more ok with that now than before. Just another thing that has morphed and changed and grown in the ensuing years.
If I'm lucky, my next trip here will happen with less years in between and less personal upheaval surrounding. If I'm lucky, I'll begin to count this city as more than a once a decade indulgence. But if not, I'll use this opportunity to bury one more personal skeleton and begin the fascination anew. I can already feel it bubbling up and taking over. This city is magic.
Friday - a day spent in the yard. Solar lights in. Sammy's box o' dirt built. Basil planted. Lunch with my lovely mother-in-law. However, no pictures...
Saturday - Sammy's tea party
Sunday - A boy watching Scooby Doo, snuggling with his new bunny, trying to kick the last of his cold
Monday - What do you get when you add Nine West rewards money + a sale + wanting navy shoes? These.
Tuesday - a boy and his first skate board
Wednesday - cousin fun; the hero worship is MIGHTY
I feel, lately, I'm having odd experiences. Up is down, right is left. For the millionth time, I chalk it up to growing up. But still call it weird.
A couple of months ago, I found an old friend on facebook. I was thrilled. I've been trying to find her for years. We were GREAT friends at one point, but had, like most, lost touch. I hid her from my feed three days later. I could not stand her postings. EVERY post was political, which, is not usually a deal breaker for me. What WAS the deal breaker is how she acted while posting these. Very paranoid. Very conspiracy - theory oriented. A little, can I say, crazy sounding. And yet, would not have a normal catch up conversation.
However, I did find another friend and it has been lovely catching up. It's not quite been the "nothing has changed" relationship that I wish for, but it's been lovely. And it's highlighted how much I've missed him and his friendship. And I'm grateful we are back in touch. However, out of these two experiences, they are exactly opposite of how I would have predicted they would have turned out, had I guessed months ago.
Closer to home, I've fallen into the quickest friendship. Which is pretty unlike me, actually. I tend to hold back, guarded, until the ugly eventually rears its head and shows me that the new friendship isn't going to work somehow. But Lacy. Well, Lacy is different. I'm pretty sure we've been friends forever and were just only made aware of it this year. It's lovely. And makes me believe that friends like this can happen at any age, if we're willing to be open.
A couple of weeks ago, I put a pretty nasty facebook status up. I had gotten home from church, frustrated with someone, and I railed. Unwisely. I pulled it before too many people saw it. But the feeling in my soul lingers. At first glance, I thought this woman would be great to get to know. On paper, things seemed right to be friends. But things aren't always as 'on paper'. I won't detail what happened, but suffice it to say I left the meeting seething and calling her a terrible mother and how on earth could she even THINK of having children how incompetent can she be...It was harsh. It was mean. It was regrettable the second it escaped my lips. And then my upside down topsy turvy world wondered at my quick judgment. It wondered at my unholy thoughts and snapped thinking. How I absolutely let this instance ruin a portion of my day.
All of these things probably mean very little. However, put them together and I'm starting to feel that these experiences feel richer or deeper or more meaningful. That these individual blips of life really do make up the tapestry of my days. That these slices are what it's all about. It's not the grand, but the mundane. I know they mean something, put all together. But I'm not really sure what, yet.
The mirror sees...20 pounds lighter, 10 years younger, smooth, clear skin with no puffiness or bulges. The reality is...a plump, middle aged woman with wrinkles and rolls, battling hormonal changes and creaking in the knees. I wonder when the mirror and the reality diverged so greatly. I wonder when the inside and the outside became strangers of one another. I wish I could recall when the silly worries of yesterday became the real, soul wrenching worries of grown ups.
It seems just yesterday I was complaining how bulky my 120 pound frame was. How I could stand to lose a couple more pounds. How my biggest worry was over some boy. It seems just yesterday the only thing I worried about was myself. What I needed in life, in love. But I know it wasn't. The years have passed against my will and with it has come a complicated web of worry about others. A growing and expanding only the experience of years can bring. At that very heart lies the dichotomy of reality versus the mirror. What you feel, how you look, what's inside and what is out.
Today, however, that mirror is clearly showing the bags and fine lines and a woman of worry. It's coming in line more with reality in a brief moment of clarity. Days will pass and the two will diverge again, as this point passes. The reality and the mirror will once again be strangers. But for today, every grown up worry will press on me and I'll not breathe as I examine the reality. I'll hear the creak in my knees as I kneel a little more often. Just for today.
