I have struggled these past few weeks. The panic, anxiety and fear of what I have just done has taken over and I have found my spirit frozen. So, what I have done to remedy this is to move constantly.
This weekend I went to the mountains to see my friend Cindy, the one with the super model legs, infectious laugh and heart the size of Texas. It is impossible to feel negativity around Cindy, unless I think about how much I want to deserve her as a friend. Then, I think of all the things I am not and need to work on becoming. Which is still a good thing.
Her house is nestled on the side of a mountain and it is so inviting and cozy. An extension of the occupant herself. Her dog liked my dog and my dog liked her dog. The breeze was nice coming through the windows and the wine was just as good on this visit as it had been in past visits. Cindy's authenticity is the best thing about her and the thing I most envy. People like her don't often come into your life so I highly recommend you keep your head out of your own ass when they do and hold on tight to the opportunity.
We ran into Paul. He was there in high school too. And just like Cindy and I, that may be where we met but we didn't really know a damn thing about each other there. To look at him now you can see time has been good to his physical being. And being around him for a few hours you can hear that time has also been cruel. He wears both outfits with equal dignity. He is tall, salt n peppered and handsome, seems to like the f-word and says what you see is what you get with his hug and conversation. And I feel suddenly like I have missed him all these years.
We hang out all day as if we have hung out every Sunday this way for years. They are forgiving of my ability to drink more wine then I should and they are interested in me and there is nothing more remarkable then knowing someone is interested in what you have to say or what you are doing.
For some reason we load in the car to go to Paul's house to dip into the Sunday stash of beer. Three 40 something year old teenagers with the windows rolled down. Paul's house is his family home and I know that weight and warmth. The house is open and sturdy, like the man Paul has become.
There is a picture of both his mother and father, who have been called home in recent years and I think, damn, they must be proud. Paul and Cindy have both lost their parents.
As I drive home today it all overwhelms me. I think about my own Dad in heaven and wonder if he is proud of me. I wonder if he is rolling tumultuously in his grave as I go jobless and damn near penny less into a future of the Great Unknown.
But this is what I do know. Paul and Cindy, are damn fine people. Teenagers that grew up to be really good human beings. And though I may never know for myself, I would think that is all a parent can ask for. I would like to tell Vincent and Francis what fine kids they raised.
Recipes: Bloody Marys, Brie and Peaches make for a really nice breakfast in the company of the beautiful people.
Roadtrips: From Dillard, to Wiley and back again. You can always go home.
Renovations: Paul said something to me the other night that makes me want to run. Run away from this person I have become, lazy, unattractive and stuck. And, because I am Wade's Daughter, I know I will run in the right direction.
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