I do not need to do so, but I ask myself: What does a breakup look like for someone with a healthy sense of self?
After being estranged for ten years, a father and daughter sat together on my office couch this evening. Being a supportive fly on the wall at their reunion was heart-wrenchingly breathtaking.
Perhaps sparked by the encounter’s intensity, I shared with Dave memories of previous relationships —precisely the addictive, chaotic, and powerless times. “I think I lost myself in them,” I tell Dave, which I hadn’t articulated so well before until this conversation, but it feels accurate.
I don’t know what to do this yet, but it feels like a breakthrough.
As of yesterday, the flights for a month-long trip to Georgia are booked. That the vacation is no longer in the abstract causes flurries of panic to arise, at the number of things – houseplants, work, our animals, having my own space – that will be left unattended.
The past two days, I’ve seen three eagles, a pair flying in line with each other and one slightly above them. At their grace and landing in a nearby tree, I hoped they were looking for a place to move. Which, by the way, I’m ok with; the tree they’re looking at is nowhere near my duck’s pen.
A rare walk across the room with arms spread, Dave enfolded me in a hug. “Legitimately. You said the entire word. Thank you.” His concern is birthed from pop culture’s mishandling of the word, not because I’m a legit offender.
Also, the word kiddos and littles is not ok with him (and I agree). “What’s wrong with the word kids, anyway?”
As you can see, we’re doing the Lord’s work, scrutinizing the English language one word at a time. Best be careful, lest we come to a conversation near you.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 