I was packing up to head out to the grocery store about ten minutes ago, when I received a text.

I answered, mustered up my greatest courage and just tried to let it go.  Im going to write for a bit, and see what comes out. I know myself, and in my greatest moments of self-confusion and searching- I’m always able to find what I feel on here.

1. I’m not going to say that I’m surprised. They seem very happy. Babies make people say stupid stuff like, “We’re over the moon!” (Which is where I truly want them to go.) He never wanted more kids, and now he’ll have five, total. (Which- in all reality is great.) We should all be so happy.

2. Do I wish it was me? Actually… for a minute- I’m not going to lie. I texted a few people, I sat in bewilderment of how I should feel.  I looked in the mirror. I looked at the curve of my waist and the rosy hue in my cheeks; I studied the slight pout/puzzlement that my lips were shaped into. I studied and studied, and in the face of it all- I smiled. It wasn’t an ordinary or forced concoction- but something deeper. Relief, perhaps? The boat has sailed, they signed on the dotted line. They gained each other- and I gained independance of who I so desperately -thought- I wanted to be.

Something happens when you wake up and realize, who you are is not wrapped up in anyone else, (unless they are the age of three and a half and have a penchant for pigtails and mac&cheese.) What happens is- over the past year, I realized- I uncovered the beginning of the scary, the damaged and the triumphs I hadn’t allowed myself to experience fully. I don’t fear for most of the things that used to plague my mind. If I’m alone at thirty? Thank god I’m alive. If I have wrinkles before I’m married? I’ll have lived enough to earn them, myself.

A part of me- will always wonder, (and thank god!) The power to feel, to spectulate, and to be curious? Is what makes me who I am- it makes me something bigger, too. -Human.

I was pondering this exact situation a few nights ago when I was going through old pictures. Some of us had snuck their way into various memory stashes, or shoeboxes over the past year. I pulled out the few I found- and I smiled. We were complete and total idiots. I have a new found respect for my need to be head-over-heels with the idiocy of ‘love.’ The other pictures mixed in- high school and childhood- stages in my life. (Some more important than others.) I used to view him as something I lost. (I think everyone of us has done this.)

Know what? Literally, a week from now was our first date. We went for lemonade and a shitty movie, (I can’t even tell you what movie it was- to be honest.) It spiraled into destruction from there- but in the beginning, it was exactly what I needed.

My house, is pieces of former lives. I still have the dishes from Jason and I’s place,  the small t.v. that sat in my dorm room. My headboard is his old headboard, and my bed was an incredible gift from a good friend. With one of these pieces missing, my home wouldn’t feel complete. With one of these experiences missing, or the feelings of mourning, excitement or loss- I wouldn’t be able to feel at peace with who I am today. He’s a headboard in my room that in passion I hold onto, in sleep I rub against and one that actually matches the other furniture. It was meant to be here- alone. Not a house- but a piece, in itself.

May she have a successful pregnancy and a beautiful baby.