break-up rhetoric. mostly.

It’s probably a good thing that you didn’t spend much time with me today.

If you had, I might have told you that I don’t get your metaphor.

Which is what I said to my pop tonight, and then immediately regretted it. Because, see, I did get it. It was something about a snake and youth and I did understand it, I was just being difficult. Which I can be sometimes.

I know, shocker.

Oh, and I made dinner tonight. Chicken pot pie, macaroni and cheese with stewed tomatoes (it sounds weird, but it’s actually quite delicious–and this from a girl who doesn’t even like tomatoes), salad, and a loaf of bread. But don’t get all impressed, because I didn’t actually bake that bread. Still, if that doesn’t sound like a lot of comfort food, I don’t know what does.

And I feel a little jumpy inside or something. Like peace is a good idea, but could someone please explain it to me one more time? Because I don’t remember how it’s supposed to go. It’s a melody that I used to have memorized but now the intervals escape me, and oh well, maybe I’ll just sing a good break up song, anyway.

But, breaking up.

I like the sound of that a whole lot more than divorce. And I’m sorry to keep bringing this up, but it’s sort of a big deal for me. And I know I am not the center of the universe–that there is a fabulous cast of others who play out their own stories, rise and fall with their own victories and tragedies–but, wait. Stop. Because isn’t that a relief? What if you got to the end of your days here and looked around and it was just you? Maybe you’d be okay with that, but after a while, I’d like to play my songs for someone–anyone!–else.

And then–the birthdays. Could you imagine? All that pressure to make yourself feel special. To surprise yourself. To cook yourself breakfast while allowing yourself to sleep in on your freaking birthday. It’d be a mess, I tell you.

And you’d never again be surprised by the feel of the emotions playing strongly across your own heart reflected in someone else’s song; never again hear the funniest twist of words coming from someone else’s mouth and laugh till you can hardly imagine how you’re managing to stay alive, it’s been that long since you were last able to breathe.

So yes, I am grateful that many people share this earth with me.

And another thing, though I have the feeling that I was trying to make an altogether different point before I started imagining a life lived solo. But I’ll get to it. I think, anyway.

But I remember once someone told me that they wish they were omniscient. Like God, I suppose. They expected me to reciprocate, but I immediately hated the idea. Because first of all, it’s confusing, anyway. What with all of us having this ability to choose right or left, this guy or that girl, but if we can really choose that, no strings attached, how can God know everything? As in, how can God know what we’re going to choose? And if he doesn’t, how does that limit his omniscience?

I don’t know.

And I am glad that I don’t know everything. Happy to leave all the difficult answers to someone else, I guess; but I’m interested in the questions, though, for sure.

But what was I saying before all this? Oh yes, I hate the word Divorce. Can you blame me? That v that cuts right in the middle is a real downer, I guess. Nothing against v’s, though; my own sister’s middle name is Veronica, which is quite lovely.

So I told this to a friend tonight. I said, I don’t think I’d mind it so terribly if I could just say that we broke up–instead of that other word.

And he said something so simple and refreshing.

Then say that. You did; you broke up. Just say it like that, if that’s what makes you feel better right now.

So, yeah.

I broke up with someone five months ago. That’s pretty normal. A lot of people do that, you know.

Oh, and just to be clear: I’m grateful to share this world with others. And right, I don’t want to know everything. Not now, anyway–maybe not ever.

And I did get that metaphor, pop. Sorry for being difficult.