On the weekends where I don’t have Jane, I tend to hide. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. I grocery shop wearing sunglasses. I clean the apartment from top to bottom. I even find myself scrubbing that little space back behind the toilets, that’s how I know I’ve really crossed over into the hooded Emperor “join me Luke” dark side of cleaning.
It’s nice to have time to catch up on life every two weeks. I don’t take that for granted. I pay bills. I do laundry. I fill the freezer up with meals for the next century. I check the air in my tires (I know how to do this now *high fives myself*).
But sometimes I hide not just because it’s nice to get things done, or to rest, but because I’m sad. Her room is empty. I miss her. And this is a small town. It wouldn’t seem like it when you look at the population count, but somehow it is. Gossip is a much favored past time, and it is just exhausting. And truthfully, it makes me want to simultaneously fight someone and hide at the same time. So I pick hiding because it’s a choice much less likely to involve bail money. I KID.
So this past weekend one of my bestest friends in all the world drug me out into said world. Jeanetta came over, brought me firewood,and drove us to a blogger’s Christmas event at Cajun’s Wharf this past Saturday and I have to admit, I wasn’t excited about it. Don’t get me wrong. I love that restaurant. And I was happy to see my friend (because it’s impossible not to miss that big haired opinionated woman something awful when I don’t see her for over a month). But I knew I’d also be seeing a lot of people I hadn’t seen since before the divorce. People who had heard all those gossipy things, and this was one of those cases where it seemed a heck of a lot easier to stay at home and scrub the bath tubs with bleach.
But I went.
I could get a little teary eyed if I let myself, because this was the first time I’ve ventured out into the world since it fell of its axis, and nothing bad was waiting for me. It was actually wonderful. The women were wonderful. The food was wonderful. The booze was, well, I think these pictures speak for themselves. We drank, we ate, we laughed a lot. Jeanetta made a crown out of the table’s rosemary garnishes. The owner taught us how to make mussels and clams in a tomato broth that was to die for. I had a Christmas martini called the Poinsettia, but it should have been called “I make everyone in your life funnier.”
I was reminded that it’s safe to go out. There was no big gossip monster waiting for me. There were no awkward moments. But there were a lot of hugs and “good to see you out’s” and genuine smiles.
I was reminded that it’s safe to stop cleaning and put on some high heels and venture into the world again.
