One of my favorite places to be when I'm falling apart and I just want to give up is inside the hug of a man who cares. I cannot describe the comfort I feel there. I miss it. For almost twenty years I had arms to hold me whenever the world tried to beat me up. Then, those arms were gone. I stood alone. When it got to be too much I wrapped myself in a quilt and hid from the world. But there were no arms. No steady heartbeat. No forehead kisses. No chin resting on the top of my head. No quiet strength. No protector. I survived, wrapped in my quilt, Tommy-dog at my side. Today I stood in the kitchen, exhausted, contemplating my options. I wanted a bit of whiskey, but I couldn't decide which I was in the mood for. Life's been...a lot the last fortnight or so and I don't see an end. I knew what I wanted. I wanted arms. I wanted comfort. I wanted to feel safe and warm. I wanted to know somewhere there was a man who cares. Really cares. About me. About Kristin. My eyes landed on a particular bottle of liquid sunshine and I smiled slightly. I have arms. Amazingly, there are two sets of arms. Two good guys. Two who know me for me. Two who will tell me when I'm being stupid. Two who care. They aren't here, and they aren't mine, but I have arms when I need them. When boys are stupid and life is hard, I can close my eyes and sip the whisky I drank with them and hide in a remembered hug.
I am myself, unapologetically myself. I'm complicated. I'm blunt and honest. I am a lot. No one stays. This is the truth. I accept this. I know that every connection is temporary. They all leave. So, I have choices. I can avoid all attachments to anyone. I can build a wall of ice around myself, i can keep everyone away and avoid all possible hurt. Or I can enjoy the connections. I can treasure the moments of bliss and happiness. I'd rather enjoy the brief moments of happiness and connection than not to have any connections at all. I treasure the smiles and laughter. The closeness and comfort. And when they walk away, I let them. I let go. Accepting that they choose to walk away is hard. It would be safer to push everyone away. It certainly would hurt less. But, everything would be less. Memories that make me smile wouldn't be there, memories of being cherished, wanted, chosen, even for a little bit, would be missing. I know they care. I know they leave because they care. At night, I stare at the stars in the darkness, little twinkling bits of glitter in the deep black sky. It's too beautiful, too perfect. My heart hurts because I remember a tiny moment of perfection I shared with someone who cared. Yesterday, last month, three years ago, or almost twenty years ago. All the tiny moments of perfection are branded on my brain, and cause a ache I cannot ignore in my heart. Yet, I still search for the stars at night, still, i turn my face to the east at dawn, still, i watch the rain streak down the window. Little bits of beauty and perfection that remind me that even the briefest moments of connection have lasting impact, and I am a more complete person for having shared all the moments together. Thank you.
yes. let's drink. let's find a quiet booth in a public place and drink and laugh and just be us. let's drink until reality fades. let's drink until the truth doesn't hurt quite so much and the filters fall
away. let's drink until all the words spill out in a jumbled heap on the table. let's drink until the words make sense. let's drink. let's talk. let's just be us. let's drink until the world falls away. let's hide in the perfection found amid not enough sleep, too much time apart
and just enough whiskey. let's talk until they kick us out and we stand in the parking lot not wanting
it to end. let's stand there until I'm shivering and you're laughing because I'm always
cold. then, let's say goodbye. let's say until next time. let's promise a next time. yes. let's drink.