Giving Up On Numbers

It's the pattern of the holidays again. It's the drown of an entire month spent spending, forgetting that last year we said, "it'll be different. we won't ever do THAT again." But we do.

Not that I'm complaining. I love gift-giving. Even better, I love receiving. I welcome this trade. Sometimes I like to just give. However, just getting something makes me uncomfortable. If you get me something, rest assured, I won't leave myself indebted long.

I act out of the fear that people might whisper, "she always takes, never receives." And so I super give back. You won't be chiding me and my friendship skills later. O heck no.

...


Been traveling back and forth to Phoenix the last couple weeks. Dipping myself in my recent past. I drive around, trying to remember if I ever belonged there. I think I did. Once. Twice. Yes. For weeks and months at a time.

I hit a wall though, somewhere near 2003. I wanted to leave the desert. I wanted to forget her hot hug on my neck. Rip her sweaty kiss off of me. I disliked living in her spiky landscape, even if I did it for love.

And so, back there...the old comfort of familiar friends and family makes me oooh and aaah for my old place in the world. There's a chair waiting, their presence reminds me. The table is full and topped with flowers.

But I must be filled with ice. I'm so cold. My heart is closed to this past of mine. Already. It's as if the wound of me leaving was closed quickly, like a zipper. Simple as that.

Yet, I know it's not a stone heart that keeps my eyes dry.

It's knowing I've done the right thing.

...

I saw my niece Nova, her and my sis traveled down from Minnesota. She's so precious. All moving and kind of mumbling and screaming and crawling.

I didn't get enough of her though, and that breaks my heart. It sucks that I can't get myself around it. I can't find a solution and I'm a solution girl. I hate problems without solutions. Especially when it involves not seeing some of the people I love most in the world.

...

On a positive note, since a handfull of my readers mistakenly think I'm thisclose to offing myself: Today was a beautiful day. The components of this prettiness? Painting, music, and chilled oranges. And this too. This moment right here, tapping out prose like a metronome.