I was baking pumpkin bread while you were making choices to change your life forever. You were taking leaps forward into the seemingly unknown.
I admire that about you. I respect that about you.
I say “I respect that about you,” and you laugh in a way that annoys me instantly. That’s why I am saying it here, and not telling you. That laugh really annoys me.
I was complaining how someone once again spelled my name wrong and she says to another roommate, “It takes awhile before Annie gets over things. Some small will take days; something big will take weeks.”
I hear her, realize she is right, and I don’t like that about myself. I don’t want to be the one holding onto things only to have them weigh me down. I want to be more I’m rubber, you’re glue–whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you. Even though I am not sure how glue sticks to glue, I am not the kind of person who lets word slide off me. I’m like the Velcro wall, and you’re the one with words covered in a Velcro suit jumping straight toward me.
I think hot chocolate and popcorn make a great combination. It reminds me of a Halloween many years ago. I had planned to go trick-or-treating with my friends, the “cooler” group of friends. Or so I thought. Then something happened–I don’t even remember what. But they left, and I ended up at my other group of friends’ house. The group I thought I was less cool. But I was wrong, and thankfully, they extended enough grace to welcome me back in. Her mom popped the popcorn and poured the hot chocolate and around a table with my two best friends, I felt wanted like I never felt with the “more popular” group.
I learn lessons over and over again. So much that it was like I never learned them in the first place. I stumble, but keep going. I keep picking myself up. I keep shaking off the dust.