As I write this, my house is filled with with the sweet fir smell of a fresh cut tree. The girls and I decorated the tree together. There was no yelling. Nobody cried. Nothing got broken. I am, however, waiting for the batteries to die on the dancing, singing penguins (one of those Hallmark things that are so very annoying)(to me anyway).
I haven’t felt much like Christmas yet. Having the tree up helps quite a bit. I am just about done shopping for the girls and have just started on my Christmas sewing for them and for every other kid on my list. I figure a pair of pjs and a book will go further than a ten dollar something or another from Target. I’m also making doll clothes and, if I get around to it, boxers for my nephew and my friends’ boys. Christmas cheer did hit me right in the face on Friday night.
The girls and I went to a small town tree lighting/hayrack ride/bonfire/spaghetti feed. Classic. It made me want to pack all my belongings and join the little town of a thousand souls and get out of the big city. Big being subject to the fact that I’m in the middle of the middle of the country. I kind of like the idea of everyone knowing your name. Of course, they would also know that I wasn’t born and raised there but we’d cross that bridge…
A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with the associate pastor at my church. I was hoping to learn something new about Stephen. I was hoping that he, maybe, confided in Kurt during their man outings to Star Wars and other assorted movies that summer. (This goes with the hope that I someday find a letter or something else for me but I’m not holding my breath at this point.) It was a healing conversation. I did learn one thing.
Stephen told Kurt (but never told me directly) that he wanted me to go on. He wanted me to have a companion and for the girls to have a “dad” in their lives.
I’ve been chewing on that ever since.
And if he’s okay with it, I’m okay with it because (and I know I’ve said this before) I can’t imagine wandering around for the rest of my life without a companion. I don’t say “alone” because I have a slew of good friends who will keep be from being truly alone. I realize that and I am oh so appreciative.
Not that I want into the dating pool again. I don’t. For many reasons that end with the fact that Little Debbie has been my friend for far too long this fall and, as a result, all my undergarments are ill fitting. The list begins with the fact that I’m a giant, awkward dork in social situations and I say inappropriate things. Stephen loved me anyway.
I have to believe that, someday, someone else will too.