Huggie

Life is short.

Hug long.

Marriage, and other things (Part 1/2)

it was 2006. Maybe the early spring,

near high school graduation.

the night was like most nights that year had been:

never long enough.

we were growing up together

and growing apart at the very same time.

in less than a year, we'd all be off to college.

i remember how dark the sky was.

and as i stretched back in my chair, i inhaled how twinkly the stars were.

how small i felt

and how much i liked the feeling of being insignificant.

that's when i heard him.

i was interrupted from my spiritual moment.

a shrieking: "I'm gonna marry you" in an unfamiliar voice.

i had never seen him before.

he was new to my friend group.

despite his abrupt entre into my orbit,

i allowed him to entertain me with musings about his next steps

and why ridley was a better high school than springfield

and other things about literature and how he liked his coffee.

i wanted to know it all.

and he was ready to propose.

but we let it stay there that night.

our lives intertwined throughout college,

but only as much as would be considered cordial but distant enough.

i forget what day of the week it was.

i forget what made me do it.

but around a similar time of year as we first met, early spring,

6 years later,

i kissed you.

and you kissed me back.

i am but an oxyMORON

 i

don't

mean

to

think

about

you

on

purpose.

almost dead. november 15. a reflection.

i came close to dying once.

it would have been a slow death.

it would have hurt a lot of people besides just me.

i had plans to run away from everything.

my house, my family, my life, my future.

because i felt alone, like no one wanted me anymore.

i really didn't care if i died.

i knew it was the wrong choice.

right before i planned on leaving, i called it off.

i emailed my mom and asked her for one last chance.

i told her i surrendered and i would do absolutely anything to get sober.

she gracefully gave me that last chance.

that day was today.

she and i had the most beautiful afternoon.

she read me the short stories she wrote when she was a young woman.

stories she had buried in the bottom of her green cedar hope chest.

we had lunch.

we laughed.

we talked about a few hard things, too.

and there will be more hard things.

but i will never forget how gentle she was.

it's late now.

i just walked into her room to see if she needed anything and to thank her.

she was asleep.

she looked like an angel.

i could not bare to wake her.

maybe tomorrow i will find the words.

i will find the words to thank her for saving my life.

this is fucking hard.

but whenever i have the chance to choose kindness,

to choose grace,

to choose love,

i will do so, in honor of my mom.

she is the definition of unconditional love.

i want people to remember me for being made in her likeness.