I left the letter, with the framed picture in a gift bag, hanging on his doorknob. I chatted briefly with his neighbour, who wanted to ensure that nothing valuable was left. She asked if he was expecting me, to which I replied with a small smile, "no".
My heart had a little flutter when I pulled in front of the house, and yet it was with confidence that I approached and knocked on the door. You know, I was actually a little disappointed that he wasn't there. I'd rather have known immediately what the state of the nation is.
Instead, it has begun. I came home and immediately checked the call display. How long will that go on, I wonder, before I secede that it is over?
I wish I knew where Lorraine is buried. Did you know today is her birthday? Ironic, isn't it? I was thinking that I would like to visit her grave, and wish her to rest in peace. I hope she had no regrets at the end, and was with peace with her decisions in life. I think that's what we all wish for ourselves, isn't it?
I took a walk down memory lane... or what's left of it. First stop was Chimo Pool. Except I got there in time to watch for a few minutes as a Cat was moving the chunks of concrete that were formerly the pool into the dumptruck. They built a new aquatic centre across the street. It's beautiful. But that I was still sad to see that part of my history being destroyed in front of my eyes.
I went and toodled through the skating rink, which will be the next phase of the plan. I smiled to see the floor with all the skate scarring. It's still the original floor, which means that some of those skate marks are Diane's. Very cool. I wandered around the centre, and went into the curling rink restaurant. I used to sit in there hiding from life, many moons ago.
I walked down to Centennial School. It's changed. I wandered the halls a little bit, but the things I remember are gone.
I went to Tipton Street and parked at the top of it. I meandered down the street, walking slowly, lookint at all the houses. I marvelled at the trees that I remember being planted. I stared up at them, with a whimsical smile on my face. I stood in front of my house, and waited for the emotion to wash over me. And it did... in a way. All I could think was "rest in peace".
I stood in front of the Baird residence, beside my old house. I smiled to myself, remembering Karen and I playing cats, crawling all over the front yard. And poor Alison, wanting so badly to play with us, but us being completely cruel to her (she is Karen's younger sister and we were MUCH too cool to hang out with her. Sorry Alison!).
I walked up to the top of Lemax, only to find Mrs. Upton's house demolished and a new house under construction. That made me sad for a moment. A took a minute to remember, then moved back down the street. I chatted a second with a home owner who was outside doing maintenance. Then I continued back past my house, and got in my car and left.
I stopped at 7-11 for a coffee, and considered if I wanted to indulge in something decadent. Did I want a hot dog? Maybe a fajita? A breakfast bunwich? I wandered, touched, looked at calories, and ended up deciding that I was actually not hungry and that if I got anything it would be allowing my day to dictate my health. I was not prepared to do that.
Now THAT put a whole new spin on things. I realized that I am okay. I am not "stuffing" or "bottling". I really am okay. Yes, I'm aprehensive about whether or not Larry will call. But not of the call itself. I welcome it. It's the next week of waiting to see if it will happen that I am anxious about.
But today? Today I had a good day. I reconciled a lot of stuff. I came to a clear understanding of where I am today, who I am today, and more importantly, who I am NOT today.
I'll tell you whom I am not. A victim. Nor do I feel like a survivor. I feel like someone who has a great life, with a great family, an amazing support network of people who love me, and that I am someone who is just really blessed. That's whom I am.
Thank you, one and all, for your support today. I'll let you know if he calls.
If you have issues, or baggage, you may be offended by what you read here. I work through my self loathing of my own fat, and my own fat issues, and I’m told this comes across as loathing all fat people. That is simply not the case.
Here I talk about my issues and my findings, without political correctness. I am not concerned with your issues, or your baggage, or what you may take from this. The title is "My Journey".
This blog is not meant to inspire anyone. I take no responsibility for what you take away from here. You are here as a guest into my inner thoughts.