i stretch my arm
Today was an up-and-down day. I spent the morning with one of my best friends, hitting an art gallery where I have a piece on display, then enjoying lunch. It’s so crazy - we have had some relational twisty-turns, but because we have a ‘leave nothing on the table’ policy between us, there isn’t anything weird. Ever. Which is almost weird, in and of itself. We talk about everything, even when feelings shift and interest rises again … we talk about it. It’s a picture of health, and I’m grateful.
I spent the afternoon fighting, viciously, with another of my best friends. We have a history, too, but we rarely talk about it. We fight, and then we don’t talk about it. We don’t speak, and then we don’t talk about the not speaking. We are best friends, and then we don’t talk about why things seem to be going well. Nothing. It’s a picture of discord and brokenness, but I’m still grateful. If I’m not grateful, something in me goes to sleep. It’s a hard relationship. Did I mention we work at the same place? We fight in the parking lot so no one has to hear our drama. Sometimes I imagine that we have been married and divorced and we have to keep it together for the kids [in our case, Scott The Intern. He doesn’t like to hear us fight.]
—-
i stretch my arm and press my face into my shoulder, pulling muscles and fibers until i feel like i can breathe again.
i catch an instant of your smell and am captivated. i move, shift, trying to find the scent again. lunch wasn’t enough. sitting in your car talking wasn’t enough.
