My Farewell Walk

The sun was on it's way to rest but shone brightly in it's final hour to light my path as I intentionally tried to lose myself in the houses and trees in southeast Portlandia.

I had already uttered every syllable I had left within and strangely felt calm as I anticipated each word would continue to be ignored, as they had been the night prior. 

A text from a boy that wasn't you made me smile. 

And that wasn't my fault. 

You knew as well as I that it was yours.

I stepped on a cigarette bud and thought how a part of me would genuinely miss the way the taste of your mouth always had a hint of cigarette. 

Even though I detested cigarettes.

I somehow loved it on you.

Already, five minutes into my walk, and I had been ambushed by three dogs, each approaching with such speed and determination, I stood there, a startled statue, we two staring into the other, wondering whose move was next. 

And the thought flashed in my mind that your dog would have loved me. 

And maybe I would have loved him too.

In spite of myself.

And as I listened to the songs ringing through my pearl earphones I felt my heart flutter again and realized the melodies healed. 

Which seemed somehow fitting because that agreed with the thesis of your doctorate. 

Or something like that. 

I imagine. 

You never actually told me.

And then I stumbled upon the brightest, most vibrant lilac, both periwinkle and plum, and I remembered how wonderful plum looks with my red hair. 

And as I looked into my camera and saw my reflection I felt beautiful again. 

And I remembered how much I delight in my own company. 

And that was wonder enough. 

Even if you were too foolish to see any of that.

50 Shades of Blue

I should have known it was going to be a weird day when I only put half & half in my coffee. 

I've always used coffee creamer with names like Belgian Toffee Truffle. 

The kind of stuff you'd imagine a kindergartner would add to their coffee if you let them have a cup.

And I don't know why but something in me decided suddenly I should be a grownup. 

And instead of buying more coffee creamer I got half & half at the store the night before. 

I figured I'd add sugar and drink my coffee like that from now on. 

That seemed like that's what grownups would do. 

And I really didn't feel very grownup. 

But I guess I felt I should.

And then that morning I walked into the place I'd spent nearly the last three years and they told me they were separating our relationship. 

What a relief. 

We'd needed to break up for ages.

I always drag out my relationships when they've deteriorated. 

I can't help it. 

I want to believe the best. 

I rounded the corner and saw the outline of the rock surrounded by the vast shimmering blue that nearly swallowed it. And I giggled. 

Like some lovesick school girl finally seeing her long lost love again. 

I giggled with glee. 

I hadn't been to the ocean in ages but I used to drive myself to the quiet windy corners by the sea to write or read or just drink it in. 

I was born in a small beach town and I think because of that my love affair with the ocean runs deep. 

Anything could be happening in my life and just spending time beside the ocean I feel more calm and content and at ease.

A little girl between me and the ocean practiced her cartwheels.

She succeeded, though falling slightly and I laughed, remembering how I managed to climb the highest sixty foot wall at my climbing gym and never thought that'd be possible. 

I thought about how I saw Mr. Volcano and heard from Narcissis in the same month this year. 

My two greatest heartaches in sync in wishing me well, one after seven years, the other five. 

I thought about how I somehow stumbled upon meeting a man whose brought out the hopeless romantic I thought had long since whithered away inside of me. 

I thought about how I had two musical gigs lined up this year after 1,825 days without a thought of performing again. 

I thought how this wasn't how I'd imagined I'd spend my day. 

How most of my life in the three short months this year was already not what I thought it would be. 

And how insanely wonderful that was. 

Change was certainly inconvenient but complacency far more terrifying. 

I knew my life was finally scribbling away into an entirely new chapter. 

The pages of my pasts lingering ink marks fading slightly after months of needing to be scrubbed off. 

And I thought about the interview I had lined up in several days and wondered if that was to play a role in my current play. 

But somehow couldn't even worry about it. 

Even though that's maybe what a grownup would do.

Because my life had already blown my mind with unexpected delights.

It had my trust. 

Because it knew what it was doing, these chance encounters, this newly discovered strength and love and passion.

And whatever else was to be next it had to be wonderful. 

Because my life had become a rainbow. And I wasn't dreading the storm, I was closing my eyes and allowing the warmth of the sun to finally enter my skin. 

I'd forgotten what that felt like. 

To have the sun in my mouth.

And I couldn't even open my eyes. 

I was lost in acceptance. 

In release. 

In hope.

Sweet, intoxicating hope.

Worth A Thousand Words

I thought about what she said.

My friend.

About why I post so much online. 

And I thought maybe I am just purely narcissistic and histrionic. 

Maybe it is all ego and bravado. 

And then I thought about my best friend and how she just celebrated her ten year wedding anniversary.

And how incredible that must feel, to have a partner in crime, a witness to all of your life. 

And how I can't even begin to guess what that kind of love feels like. 

And maybe there's actually something really beautiful in sharing my life online with a bunch of strangers. 

How wonderful it feels when that beautiful girl I admire from across the continents likes one of my photos. 

How we've all created this interactive online diary where we can say anything, express everything, and feel less alone. 

We can feel S E E N.

I think that's all I want. 

To feel seen. 

I used to dance around in my lingerie hoping Sheldon would react and he never did. 

I used to pour my heart out in letters to Narcissus hoping he would respond and he never wrote. 

And I love how it feels, seeing my own life there. 

How I can go back to that photo from twenty weeks ago and remember exactly the hope I felt on that rainy night. 

When life is so chaotic and I am so wretchedly forgetful. 

It stares me back in my Fancy Face. 

The beautiful, the painful, the surprising moments of my life I chose to share. 

Because I didn't want to forget. 

And how incredible it is to remember. 

And I forgot. 

That's why I started writing in the first place. 

So I could learn and see the things I didn't understand. 

So I could look for the good. 

And accept the bad with grace. 

So in spite of the cynics, of the sea of unaccepting fools, I would believe. 

In my life. In my heart. 

In my story. 

That isn't finished being written yet. 

And I have all of you to witness. 

I have an audience to witness my life. 

Even if the only one holding my hand is the Unknown. 

.........................................................

Five Years Time

I had no idea what it was going to be like to see him again. 

I hadn't seen him in five years. 

And the last time I saw him, it wasn't good. 

He looked at me like he hated me. 

It burned a hole through my heart. 

I walked up and saw him sitting there, outside the bar. 

His hair was longer. 

It was as long as mine.

He saw me. 

And suddenly all there was between us was a smile. 

Like seeing the kid you spent your childhood with and hadn't seen in a decade. 

My worries drifted away as he wrapped his arms around me and I buried my face in his chest. 

He looked the same. 

And really different. 

I don't know how that works. 

But it was true. 

We sat at the bar and he started talking. 

'Me first?' He asked. 

"Yes. Tell me everything. When last we talked you moved to Alaska. Go."

He started telling me about the last five years and I was listening. 

But I also kept tuning out as I just looked at him. 

The lines in his face, the way they crinkled around his eyes, they started to look familiar.

The calm tone of his voice as he went on reminded me of the comfort that used to bring.

The tattoo that peaked out from his hoodie along his wrist and remembering the one on his back and his leg. 

And the new tattoo on his finger I realized wasn't familiar. 

It all came flooding back. 

All of it. 

That lovesick girl, desperate to win his favor. 

And failing, miserably.

He kept talking, more than I expected, but I guess there was a lot to tell. 

Five years of story.

Then it was my turn. 

"I'm really into rock climbing now."

'What? No way.'

"And I really like legos."

'Who ARE you?' He smiled. 

We were so different.

Different than we'd been five years ago.

But how then did our past selves connect us so strongly?

"Were you surprised to hear from me?" I asked. 

'No. You've reached out to me several times throughout the years.'

I blushed. I guess I had.

'And I almost wrote you.'

"What?" I asked, surprised. 

'My sister texted me and told me she saw you. So I almost wrote you an email.'

I KNEW she would say something. 

That's why I was so grateful that I hadn't rolled into Starbucks in my pjs looking like a hot mess that day. 

'I'm really sorry,' he said. 'I'm sorry for the way I treated you. My heart wasn't open to you for a long time. But it is now. That's why I look at our time together differently. You're a big part of why I went to Alaska.'

"I'm sorry," I looked down at the bar.

'No. I should thank you. Thank you. I'm so glad. I'm so glad I went.'

"Do you know we meet every five years? We first met in like 2004, 2005 then our lives went apart and we met up again in 2009, 2010. And here we are again."

'Wow. I didn't even put that together.'

"So we have to promise to meet up every five years."

'I can do that,' he said. 

We talked about our past relationships.

'So really, I ended up doing the same thing to her that I did to you. I moved to Seaside. My life is just me running away from girls.'

I laughed. But it felt really nice to know I wasn't the only woman who drove him away.

We realized we were both just as unsure about our futures as we'd been five years ago. 

That's just how life is. 

Uncertainty. 

Delicious Uncertainty. 

But I realized how much I wanted to hope again. 

Hope the way I did when I was that lovesick girl. 

'But people change,' he said. 'Sometimes people become someone else.'

And maybe I wasn't that girl anymore. 

Maybe I was someone else entirely. 

But maybe I hid my hope because I'd been alone for so long and it was easier to stop believing. 

Maybe it was hidden to pretend that part of me no longer existed. 

But if she didn't exist, why did seeing this lost love from a life time ago make me want to cry?

'Let's go this way,' he said. 

The pathway to the main door was blocked by a crowd of people. 

So we stepped outside the back, into the blanket of stars, that covered a circle of trees connected by twinkling lights. 

It was breathtaking.

"It looks like a scene in a movie. I feel like you should reach for your guitar you have hidden behind a tree or something."

And then it knocked the wind out of me. 

Like the smack that hit my heart when he'd burned a hole in it so long ago.

I had been SO in love with him.

I had loved Sheldon. 

I did love him.

But I don't think I'd felt being in love with the kind of intensity I'd felt since Mr. Volcano. 

I'd forgotten.

My heart forgot what that felt like.

We hugged goodbye. 

And I climbed back into my car and suddenly I couldn't breathe. 

It felt like I'd been numb for years and was thawing at a painfully fast rate. 

The hole in my heart was healing and I hadn't even realized it was still open.

God. 

I wanted to love like that again. 

Wholly.

Completely.

With trust. 

Trust. 

I wanted to find a man who would trust me. 

Because I was ready to trust. 

I was consumingly ready.

Dating Portlandia: The Best First Date Ever

I'd only been to Pepe le Moko once and it was with Ireland last summer. 

Which seemed somehow fitting because I'd actually met my date then. 

He worked at one of the other bars Ireland took me to. 

And he'd made me the best sazerac I'd ever had. 

And a few weeks ago, passing Pepe with Sheldon, he'd commented, "I heard that place is really good."

Yeah. I know. 

I'd been there. 

It's named after some old french film and the inside decor is based off the movie as well.

It's dark and sexy and the walls seem faded like the bar was around when your grandparents were sipping Old Fashioneds on dates. 

I was actually kind of nervous. 

I don't get nervous. 

Who gets nervous?

He'll either like me or he won't. 

Who cares?

I walked into the bar and the host immediately asked me, in a low husky voice, "Are you Teresa?"

Stunned, I stuttered out a hesitant yes.

"Follow me," he said, as methodically as he started walking down the stairs.

I had worn my finest Tadashi dress, with sheer layers of chiffon and lace. 

But even dressed like a fine lady, I couldn't help myself.

"What am I in a fucking movie?!!"

I couldn't see the host's face, as he was walking in front of me, but I'm sure I felt him smile. 

How could he not?

He led me toward the back of the bar where my date sat. 

My date rose to greet me and my heart did a stupid flutter of excitement. 

God, he was tall. 

6'4".

Lanky.

And he was wearing a bow tie. 

I fucking love bow ties. 

Standing before me was the description of the men I have a weakness for on every online dating profile I have. 

And he was my date.

"How did the host know who I was?" I asked. "What did you tell him?"

He smiled a coy, somewhat startled smile. The way you'd smile if your hand was in the cookie jar and you'd turned around to see Mummy disapprovingly catching you.

'Oh. I can't tell you that. Maybe later,' he brushed me off. 

The waiter came by and I ordered an Old Fashioned and shortly thereafter he brought an Old Fashioned my date had ordered before I got there. 

Of course we both ordered Old Fashioneds. 

We both were old fashioned. 

It was fucking ridiculous. 

We proceeded to talk about typical date stuff. 

Hobbies and passions. 

Sex and relationships. 

Work and school and that time we met last summer. 

"I thought you were gay," I admitted. "You were so stylish and charming. I remember thinking you were flirting with my date because you complimented him but you didn't compliment me."

'Whose paying for the drinks?' He asked me. 'And you never hit on a man's date.'

"Oh," I replied, mildly embarrassed. "I guess you know what you're doing."

Originally when we made the date we said we'd just meet for a drink or two. Our actual date was to be a few days later. But as sort of an after thought he suggested a quick drink that night, as well. 

I'd never had a guy make a pre date to our first date.  

Kinda felt a little special, I'm not gonna lie. 

We left the bar and I thought were getting ready to say our goodnights.

He looked at me and said, with earnest, 'I don't want to stop hanging out with you. I want to get another drink with you. But we shouldn't....'

"Why shouldn't we?" I quickly replied. "Let's go get another drink."

And I linked my arm in his and we started walking around the city. 

The first bar we tried to go to was closed. 

Kask. 

The second bar we tried to go to was also closed. 

Driftwood Room. 

But it was such a lovely evening and I was having so much fun just walking together, it was kind of wonderful that they were all closed. 

Like when you're stuck in traffic but your favorite song comes on and you don't even care cuz you're just singing at the top of your lungs. 

'I don't know if it's bad of me to say this,' he started, 'but I feel really proud having you on my arm.'

I beamed. 

Like, literal sparkles jumped out of my eyes.

The last time any man had said he was proud to be with me was Narcissus. 

10 years ago. 

We finally ended up at Cassidy's. 

I don't think I'd been to that bar since my high school reunion. 

Before we walked in I stopped him. 

"Wait. You have to tell me what you told the host. How did he know who I was?"

'Ok,' he acquiesced. 'I'll tell you. I told him my lady was meeting me--'

"My lady!" I interrupted him, giggling. 

'Yes, my lady. I said, My lady is meeting me and you'll know it's her because she'll be the most attractive woman you've seen all day, with red hair, and the brightest smile you've ever seen.'

My mouth fell open. 

"No you didn't."

'Yes, I did.'

Looking into each other's eyes I was aching for him to kiss me. 

He leaned in and brought his mouth close to mine and then said, 'Come on, let's go in.'

I could have killed him. 

We settled in at the bar and sat with our legs all intertwined. 

I thought to myself that if I was there watching us I would have made some comment like, Ohmygod. Gross. Get a room. Ugh.

It was fucking wonderful. 

I don't know how I knew, because we'd been staring at each other stupidly like two lovesick teenagers all night but suddenly the way he looked at me I realized I was going to be kissed. 

He leaned in and gave me the kiss I'd been longing for all night and it was so soft and long and passionate I almost fell off the bar stool.

'That wasn't the song I wanted to have playing in the background when we had our first kiss but I couldn't wait any longer,' he said.

Fucking music majors. 

Too damn adorable. 

And I have no idea what song was playing. 

I was in a puddle, on the floor, wondering how the hell I wound up being cast in such an epic romantic comedy.

There was more after that. 

And somehow our quick little drink of a pre date turned into 5 hours. 

And that was just the beginning. 

.………..............................................

My New Girlfriend & Boyfriend

I don't have guy friends. 

Ok, I have one. 

I've never been one of those girls who has tons of guy friends. 

I don't even understand how that works. 

Any guy friend I've had we always end up sleeping together. 

What else am I supposed to do with a guy?

Play video games?

So when I met Guy who was becoming my friend I was nervous. 

That makes me sound like such a raging egotist. 

Why would I be nervous?

Because he's gonna back me up against the wall and tear my clothes off and his girlfriend's heart will be broken because I'm such a little home wrecker?

More like I'm such a little Drama Queen.

I am distrustful of men's intentions toward me. 

I don't think that makes me cynical. 

That just makes me experienced. 

Last week they redid the plumbing in my apartment and there were several young guys traipsing in and out of my apartment all week. 

One plumber in particular was extra attentive and chatty. 

He was helpful and friendly and went out of his way to do any little extra thing he could to try and help around the place to win my favor. 

It was kind of sweet. 

I worried he might ask for my phone number the last day they were there. 

But no, oh no, I didn't need to worry about that. 

I needed to worry about him coping a feel. 

That's right, the plumber, in my own home, reached out as I walked by like they were his for the taking. 

This is what I am to men. 

That's why I don't have guy friends. 

But this particular Guy had reached out to me unexpectedly and it turned out he really did just want to be my friend. 

Every time we go out we have the best conversations and he has something brilliant to share with me, about life, about hope. 

He's like this old wise man trapped in this young kids body. 

And then he invited me to come over one night and meet his girlfriend. 

I was so nervous. 

'She is gonna hate me,' I thought. 

What woman's gonna like a girl like me spending time with her man?

But we hit it off so well we stayed up talking late into the night, long after Guy had gone to sleep. 

And she confided in me that she'd only ever had a few girlfriends and always only had male friends. 

And I thought how Life really does know what She's doing when she crosses people's paths. 

And then the next day Guy told me that me and her must have had a good night together because she talked about how happy she was and how she appreciated him. 

And they both really needed to hear that. 

And I really needed to be a part of that. 

And to realize I can have girlfriends and boyfriends. With girlfriends. 

In rare special instances. 

And that was really fucking rad.

Love Letters in your Inbox

Mr. Volcano wrote me. 

Most of you don't know who I'm even referring to, as I realize I wrote about him on a different blog. 

That's how long ago he was. 

A life time. 

1,675 Days.

Give or take a hundred.

Another girl. 

With long blonde hair. 

Who wanted to join the PeaceCorps just to follow some kid who put Stevia in his coffee. 

Can you even imagine?

Seeing his name in my Inbox played a montage of emotions in my musical mind. 

Surprise.

Shock.

The words NOFUCKINGWAY echoed several times.

Dread.

Trepidation.

Curiosity.

Annoyance.

Joy.

Calm.

After reading all he'd written, which was longer than I was expecting, that was the feeling that overwhelmed me. 

A sort of calm. 

Which sounds so bland considering I hadn't heard from him in years, considering his words were so kind, considering he apologized for the past. 

And that was how it made me feel. 

Calm.  

If anything hearing from him made me feel like anything was possible. 

It was one stupid email. 

But it was like getting an email from a ghost. 

Who knew how else life could surprise me. 

And as I let the calm embrace me I realized I had no idea what to write back. 

Like. 

Not one sentence. 

I'm one of the most verbose, overly communicative people I know and I didn't know what to say?

What was wrong with me?

I think part of it was remembering who I was back then.

Who I was when I was the girl he used to smile at stupidly with a guitar between his arms. 

That time we skipped the soccer game and stayed home singing duets together.

Or carving pumpkins.

The selfies we took together before we knew they were called selfies. 

None of it was really simple. 

Not really.

There were sisters and roommates and parents who were still mourning the loss of their ex daughter in law. 

But it seemed simple somehow to me now.

Or maybe just innocent. 

Hopeful.

The kind of relationship we had then I can't imagine happening in 2015.

And that's fine. 

It didn't work out. 

But I remember what a hopeless romantic I used to be.

Things would happen and I believed in the meaning behind everything. 

My faith in people blinded them so much they couldn't look me straight in the eye. 

I wish I could have drinks with that blonde girl. 

I wonder what she'd say to me now. 

I don't know if I've figured anything new out. 

I wonder if she'd think I had.

Maybe hearing her voice would make me look more at the stars again. 

I'd like that. 

Red Hearts & Gold Stars

I felt like a hot mess. 

I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the same pair of leggings I'd already climbed in three times that week. 

Eew.

I did put makeup on but considering I think of makeup as an art I looked in the mirror and saw a girl who slapped some paint on the canvas with no thought or love into what she created. 

I sighed. 

Thank God for friends. 

If I hadn't already agreed to meet Sheldon to climb I'd probably still be lying in bed. 

Life makes me want to sleep when it knocks the wind out of my heart. 

But getting out of my messy apartment was probably more what I needed. 

I stepped out and the sun made me squint & reminded me I hadn't had any coffee yet. 

I skuffed the sidewalk with the balls of my shoes as I headed towards Starbucks with my hoodie covering my head. 

It was warm enough that I ordered an iced coffee which I think I secretly love more than hot coffee. 

Some new Barista was at the bar and he was so charming and jubilant as he handed me my iced coffee. I looked at him and smiled. 

First time my mouth had done that today. 

I didn't feel very strong as I put my harness on at the gym. I really didn't feel like being brave or 40 feet above the ground. 

"Are you gonna do the Orange one?" Sheldon asked. 

"Okay," my mouth responded without my consent. 

And part way up I really didn't want to keep pushing myself. But some girl was climbing a couple feet away from me & our pace was nearly the same. So as I stood there, not sure which way I wanted to move, seeing her start to pass me made my leg push me up to the next hold. 

I'm not even competitive. 

It was like my body just heard hers say, 'Come on. Let's go.'

I made it to the top. 

As I was untying my ropes Sheldon patted me on the head. 

"I did it," I said quietly. 

My mouth smiled for the second time that day. 

I was supposed to meet a girlfriend that night but I didn't know if I was up to it. I'd only recently become friends with her & even though she seemed a kindred spirit, I didn't know if I was comfortable being this version of myself. 

Defeated Resa. 

I remember once showing my vulnerable, shattered self to a new female friendship and she told me she was really disappointed because she always thought of me as being strong. 

And it was hard for her to see me like that. 

We were never close again. 

There are few people on this planet that can be around who you really are at the core of your heartaches and your insecurities who will still cherish and accept you. 

But later I felt a small wave of strength settle on my soul and I agreed to meet her for a drink. 

I grabbed a wrap dress I'd tossed in my car earlier that week and tried to make something presentable of my scattered hair. 

Again I looked at my reflection in the mirror and sighed. 

I didn't feel fucking fabulous. 

Not one drop. 

I got to the tiny wine bar first and found a corner to tuck myself into. 

I set the glass of red wine next to me like a prop with little interest in drinking any of it. 

I picked it up when I realized I hadn't drunk any but just looked at the crimson liquid & then set it down again. 

I glanced up & she was walking toward me. 

I stood up & fell into her hug. 

We sat down & her shining eyes smiled into mine. 

"Look at you," she gushed. "You're so perfect."

I looked down and blinked a drop of water away.

'Thank you. I don't feel perfect. I've been in a bit of a grump today.'

She laughed at me. "You're so adorable."

And we just had a simple visit. 

And she wasn't disappointed in me for not being strong & fabulous. 

Because for some reason I was wonderful in her eyes even with the brokenness that embraced me. 

And that made me feel stronger. 

And then she handed me a tiny box. 

"I saw these & thought of you. I really wanted to keep them for myself but I thought you needed them."

And inside the box was the cutest pair of dangly red earrings with a heart & a bow. The sweetest combination of Punky Brewster and Minnie Mouse you ever saw. And they could have cost her all of five dollars but I felt as loved as if she'd handed me rubies. 

I love presents. 

Like, I'm still a little five year old that treasures every trinket anyone gets me because a present means you thought of me, that in that moment I was on your mind. And nothing makes me feel more special. 

She hugged me goodbye & I headed to my next rendezvous. 

I sat at the bar sipping my old fashioned wondering if everything was okay. And my friend texted me that she was having car trouble and she felt like a mess. And for the first time all day I felt strong. 

'Stay put. I'm on my way.'

And we found our way to that dark little dive bar we'd huddled in before. 

And we each poured our troubles onto the table. 

"Here," she said. "I got this for you."

I gaped at the surprise gift in my hands, a red flask with gold stars on it and a collage on the front with a vintage corset and the words "I ❤️ flirting" & "I ❤️ fucking" printed on the front. 

I giggled. 'Omg. It's perfect. It's so me. It even has stars. I'm ResaStar.'

I gave her a big squeeze like she was the stuffed animal I thought was lost forever. 

'Thank you.'

"Of course."

We closed down the bar and ran down the street with party balloons left over from the person who'd turned "Nearly 40" that was spelled out in eight balloons. We all barely fit into my car & our laughter filled in the tiny cracks of space the balloons left between us and the walls. 

I returned to my bed and my dear cat, Cartier, just as I'd left it and crawled under the covers with a renewed strength. 

It was always with me. 

But sometimes it took the pats on the head, the shining eyes & the squeezes of dear friends to bring it back to the surface. 

I am so grateful for everyone who adds to that reserve, who lightly pushes me to climb one more step up. 

I love you all. 

You make the hate I'm fighting endurable. 

Thank you

       ❤️