Right now the scent of banana bread* is traveling from my oven to where I sit at my computer. A moment ago I listened to the quiet, deeply satisfying gurgle of hot water pouring from the kettle into my mug.
I’ve spent the evening alone and I’ve journeyed through a variety of states of being while doing so. Earlier tonight I felt restless, wishing it was warm summer night, one where I could meet a friend in Rittenhouse Square, get gelato at the new Capogiro at 20th and Sansom and wander around Barnes and Noble without the burden of a coat. I walked over to the Roxy to see the new Harry Potter movie and felt abnormally uncomfortable being there by myself.
I found myself wishing myself back three years in time, to when I was first falling in love with Ted, not because I wish I was still with him, but because I miss that rush of feeling, excitement and discovery you experience when you are learning a person. I almost called a couple inappropriate guys, all because I was uncomfortable being by myself, but stopped before I picked up the phone. I’ve chastised myself for not spending the evening writing, even if it was nothing more than a blog entry about my two nights of Thanksgiving meals with my vastly extending family. I’ve looked in the mirror and found my appearance lacking.
All that, and I’ve found the time to do my laundry too.
The crazy thing is that in spite of feeling all this tonight, all the emotions of discomfort, sadness, frustration, hopelessness, and futility, I’m still here and I’m still okay. That might sound like a really simplistic discovery, but for me, right now, it makes me feel like Marie Curie discovering radium. But enough profundity. I’m going to bed.
*Ma, don’t worry, I won’t be eating it. I’m taking it to church tomorrow.