THURSDAY TALES: MEANT TO BE SOMEONE ELSE

I was meant to be someone else.

I know that everyone says that at some point. They look at their life and where they are and they decide that this wasn't where they were meant to be. This is wasn't who they meant to be.  But I really mean it.

I was meant to be someone else. It's in the paperwork.

I'm sure I wasn't supposed to find the paperwork. I was in the attic, putting away some boxes for Mr. Baker, and I accidentally knocked one over.  As I put the files back in the banker box, my eyes fell on one with my name.

"JESSICA TANKER - PRIVATE"

Well, what would you do?

I opened it.  I opened it and then I sat down.

My name is Jessica Tanker. I live at 375 Firefly Lane with my mom, my dad, my two sisters, and my dog. I'm a banker's apprentice because that's what it says on my paperwork. You do what the paperwork says. That's the rule. So I went to school, and I did well. And now, I work with Mr Baker at the First National Bank on Main Street.  That's what the paperwork should say.

But that's not what this paperwork said.

It was my picture, but not my name. Not my parents. Not my sisters. Maybe my dog. It wasn't my occupation or my history. It was like reading about someone else. Someone I'd read about in stories, someone I dreamed about being -- but... they were just dreams. Weren't they?

I slipped the file into my bag, and I went about my work.  And I went home. When dinner started, I slid it onto the table. I put my hands in my lap, my eyes on my plate, and I whispered, "Dad... who am I really?" I didn't look up.

The silence lasted a long time.  But my dad finally broke it by speaking to my mother across the table. "Marjorie...  lock the door. I guess it's time."

YOUR HARDENED HEART

It hurt when they lied to you, when they couldn't see the plea in your heart. Didn't it?

And so you hardened yours, and you turned away, and you said it didn't matter. You said you were fine.

But you weren't. Not really. A hard heart isn't fine.

You tried to make it okay. And you tried to heal. And you tried to forgive. Maybe you were successful, maybe you weren't. And yet your heart is still hard.  Because if you don't soften it, then it can't be hurt again.

Then, you can't be hurt again.

But a hard heart doesn't get to feel much love, either. A hard heart is tough to find a way into, and repels a multitude of attempts.

You want to protect... but what you really need to do is trust.  Even if you get hurt again, what you need is trust.

NEVER SPEAK OF IT

We said we'd never speak of it. I know.

And so we don't, at least not in words.  

But the fact of it hangs in the air.

It's in the way we don't speak of it. It's in the sidelong glances and the heaviness of the silence. 

It's in the awkwardness and the stops and the starts. It's in the politeness. 

It's in the way we tiptoe around it, lest one of us slips.

We don't talk about it. We pretend it isn't there, and we're afraid of what speaking of it would do. 

How would it change things? What parts of us would it break? 

What parts could we never get back?

So we tiptoe, and we talk about other things. We stay where it's safe.

But I think we both know we're pretending... and that as long as we play it safe...

...we aren't playing it real.

WHEN "I'M FINE" ISN'T

You answered that you were just fine when I asked you how you were doing. The road Life had pushed you onto looked like a hard one to me, and so I was concerned for you, my friend.

You said you were fine... and I believed you.

And you looked fine! You handled every obstacle with bravery. You faced every trial with dignity. You never complained, you just did what needed to be done.

So I believed you and I let myself worry about you less. 

You were brave and you didn't call attention to your struggle... and I forgot. I forgot that even though you were strong and even though you were quiet and even though you weren't calling out...

Even though all those things were true, I forgot you were still struggling. And I forgot to pay attention.

And I forgot that "I'm fine" doesn't always means "I don't need you." 

Sometimes "I'm fine" means "I'm doing okay... because you're here and because you care."

And so, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I forgot to see the struggle, and I'm sorry that I didn't make more effort to be here.

I forgot you needed me.

THURSDAY TALES: HIS LOSS

(on Monday)

Things ended.

So I got my hair cut, and I rejoined that gym. I bought a new dress. My friends took me out to brunch and told me how much better off I was without him.  How I was more than he deserved. How I was lucky to be free again.

Maybe they were right. So I told myself the same thing.  That I'm better off without him. That I'm more than he deserved. That I'm lucky to be free again.

And maybe I'm right.

But relationships don't exist in vacuums, and their demise doesn't lie on the shoulders of any single one of us. We ended because of things he did, yes.  But we ended because of things I did, too. And things he didn't do and things I didn't do.  And things we did and didn't do together.

And while my friends are taking me out to brunch and telling me how much better off I am now...  I know that his friends are doing the same thing.  Taking him out for drinks, telling him I was crazy, and that he's way better off without me, how lucky he is to be free again.

Maybe they're right too.  Maybe everyone is right.

But... as much as I toss my head and bring up every one of his offenses...  as often as I say, "Well, it's his loss!"  If I'm honest?  If I'm truly honest and I look deep into my heart, I know that the loss is mine, too.

And maybe we're better off apart, maybe that's true. But I loved what we were when we were together, too. And so I miss that... and I grieve that...

It wasn't just his loss.  It was ours.