5 Years Ago

Do any of you journal? I used to keep a journal, the only place I could jot down my thoughts on a regular basis and free my mind. Since I picked up blogging, I don't journal. But while I was cleaning out some magazines this morning, I ran across my journal from 5 years ago. It has a list of To-Do's for each room of the house...things to paint, refurbish, buy, etc. Almost none of those lists were ever completed.

The pages where I jotted my thoughts are gone...ripped out, although I don't remember when that happened. 5 years ago this week, I shared too much with a friend, who shared too much in return. And instead of dealing with the fallout, I decided to walk away for a while. We haven't spoken since.

I tried conjoling, teasing, joking, pleading. This had to be attempted entirely online since he refused my phone calls. I seriously considered actual begging. In person. But the logisitics of it all weren't in my favor. The ocean was a problem.


So I waited. Waited for a phone call, an email, a letter. Waited for forgiveness, which never came. Meantime, I journaled my thoughts. At some point, they must have been painful to re-read...thus the ripping and removing.

Five years ago, I sent an apology fruit basket (don't laugh yet, it gets better). All the way from Scotland filled with exotic fruits & nuts, obnoxiously large and extravagant. It was intended as a joke, but also a plea.
One month later I received a notice in the mail that I had a package too large to deliver. Filled with ominous foreboding (hehe, that's me being literary) I went to my tiny local P.O. to sign for my package. A 3 x 3 foot box was hauled out, it's corners stained and leaky. From the UK.

Mortified I signed for it and raced (as fast as you can race with a 3 x 3 leaking box) out to my little 2-door car. The box wouldn't fit. I couldn't wedge it in the back seat, and I couldn't fit it in the miniscule trunk. Meanwhile, I had gathered quite a crowd of observers because it's not every day someone in my little town receives a package from o'er the pond...not to mention one that was apparently VERY INTERESTING.

I squished it as much as possible and got the trunk closed, thankfully able to rush home. But dare I open it? Obviously, it reeked. I can't imagine how it ever got through customs. Inside the box was a sad, once-extravagant, exotic fruit basket. Bow now limp, fruit now mush, nuts intact.

Of course I didn't hesitate to paw through the smelly mess hoping for a letter, a note...but no. Nothing. Just the basket. I actually enjoy this story now, although at the time I thought it possible my heart would never be pieced back together.
I felt so much frustration because we weren't communicating. With time and distance, I can now see the dialogue I refused to see then. Because we were definitely having a conversation when I sent the large tub of fruit, and he in turn sent it to me. It just wasn't what I wanted to hear.

Five years ago, on our birthday, I sent a funny card. It had been picked up long before the email that ended all emails. When I mailed it, I didn't include a return address so there was no way to return it to me. Victory! (Shut up! He did too read it!)

You see, we share a birthday. Just one of those coincidental, odd trivialities that once was a blessing("HA! Now you can never say you forgot my birthday!") and became a sort of curse. Because it's true...I've never forgotten.

This week I lost a favorite girlfriend (who turned out to not be much of a friend at all.) It wasn't as painful as 5 years ago, but maybe I'm numb. I've learned enough in the past 5 years about friends and people to know that...people aren't always who they seem. I don't know if that makes me wiser or jaded.

But you know what? I have a whole lot of friends left. And maybe it's true that your heart has to break a little to grow. Not to get all mushy or anything, but I'm thankful for all of you. For distracting me from my troubles, for making me laugh, for emailng to check when I'm absent, for passing the bottle when I need it (and even when I don't. you know who you are).

I ♥ my girlfriends!

The payoff if you made it to the end of this extremely long and non-sew-isty post was, of course, the LURV.