A quick entry before work, so I don’t run out of time later.
Yesterday, some of you may have noticed that my mom left a comment. She has been following my Xanga, and didn’t want to be left without the chance to respond. She said:
I replied to her with this:
Maybe go get some tissues.
is a good thing we had that talk today about crying being a good thing.
You made me cry and cry. Brock came over to hug me, and couldn’t figure
out what was wrong. He kept asking me, “What is it? Is she mad at you?
Is she sad at you? What did she say?” …but I was crying too hard to
Why is it that sometimes we can’t say the things we mean to say until it gets to be too much to hold inside?
miss you so much. I miss you every day. I miss your cigarettes, and
your coffee cups. I miss putting away the dishes even though I hate it.
I’m crying right now, I miss it so much. I miss talking about books,
and watching movies, and sitting beside you on the couch. I miss
hearing you tell dad to go stuff it, and seeing him smirk when you turn
your back. I miss… mom, I miss everything. And it is so hard living
I know you are proud of me… I am proud of me
too. I just wish I could share it with you more than a phone call, some
pictures, and an email.
I love you. Tell dad I love him too.
I just thought it was worth sharing.
Also, THANK YOU to everyone for the congratulations on my exam grade, and the well wishes and support for my job interview. You guys are great!
Part 4 –
Bigger’s Bed and Breakfast was a gorgeous, scenic little cabin and restaurant over the edge of a river valley. As I bumped my way up the gravel drive, I sent a quick text proclaiming my arrival, and pulled into the parking lot. My eyes were squinted tightly against the blaze of the sun when I opened the door and pushed myself forward into the startling heat. Perhaps that heat was playing tricks on my mind, but I went to the back of the car to get my suitcases. For some reason it had not occurred to me that I was late for dinner and should head directly in. The keys were in cahoots with the sun, and I was struggling to find the right one when I was interrupted. A startlingly handsome man had caught my eye. He was strolling in my direction, and I remember thinking that I must have parked next to his car. Instinctively, I turned towards him as he drew near, and his face broke into a giant, elated grin; the most sincere and heartfelt smile I had ever seen. “Holy crap…Brock?!” The words leapt out of my mouth as he wrapped me in a hug, “You are so much taller than I remember!” I said excitedly. I realized shortly afterwards that we had probably never shared a hug before.
Throughout the evening and the following day, things were a relaxed sort of shy. Our banter was light, our laughs were genuine, and our smiles were fixed. I didn’t want to allow myself to believe that he could like me back. At this point, I was hardly even admitting to myself that I liked him as much as I did. But it was in his long looks, his casual touches, his easy chatter; I wanted so badly for him to like me back. We made it through the ceremony and reception with little to-do. The dance came next, and we enjoyed a few drinks. Being the ever-polite gentleman, Brock requested a dance, but I declined out of a lack of self-confidence. He just laughed at me. The sun was setting when we found ourselves sitting out under the canopy. Music was drifting out of the open doors and windows of the house. The friendly buzz I was riding had me commenting that my feet had begun to ache from wearing heels all day. Without even skipping a beat, Brock leaned down, pulled my foot up to his lap, and began to rub out the knots. Stunned, and speechless, I tried to rationalize why he would be so wonderful, so thoughtful as to do that if he didn’t like me. I had so convinced myself all day that Brock was just being his sweet southern self and I was looking far too desperately into his actions…but his taking my foot took the cake. My heart began to soar.