Seeking comfort in routine can be beautiful and painful at the same time.

"You have mail. Do you want it?" I said as I called him Saturday.

We haven't had a face to face interaction in what feels like a lifetime. Not since my move from Laguna. So much has happened. So much pain and...

"Sure. Lunch? I'm hungry anyway. Meet me at [x familiar breakfast spot we'd regularly go to]."

It was a little surprising in a way. He'd said the day before that he didn't want to. That he wasn't ready. Even though he was going you could still hear how he still wasn't. But yet something was off. I wondered what it was. He hadn't been willing before this easily.

I was shocked. Very shocked. This had been something I'd wanted in so long.

This was something my heart burned for.

Ached for.


Cried about.

These silly stupid moments of familiarity. 

Arriving felt comforting but also frightening. I was nervous pulling up and nearly wanted to just hand him his mail and go away. He saw me parking the rental car and continued on to the restaurant though. It was too late. He'd seen me. I needed to go in. This was just something we were going to go through... all of it... and it was going to go as it was going to.

My heart...

It was good to have the familiar.

It was also so so painful.

Looking around you could feel the loss. This place had so many memories. Perhaps not any for us in that booth we sat in. Perhaps he'd had them with his ex before me. Perhaps he... 

But I didn't and don't want to think about it.

The conversation ebbed and flowed. Much of it was extremely painful. Much of it, however, was also beautiful.

I was hesitant and nervous about even being there in the first place. That familiarity felt different than it used to be. It was uncomfortable and sad and ached.

We talked some more. I bid ideas. He talked about hope and potential and...

He said maybe another time for ideas but not that day. It bummed me out. It felt like a test and a bit of a tease.

He'd suffered a loss of his own that day. There had been a death in the family. There had been death in the air all around for the both of us. It was somber and difficult for each of us.

"How's your health* these days?" he asked me.

Note: there's a blog coming up here called Sickness and Health about this as well.

I wanted to scream.

My health has not been as great physically as it used to be. It's for silly familiar reasons and not also for some sad ones. The silly familiar is from the lack of sushi once or twice a week that was part of our regular routine. The sad was that my budget hasn't allowed for sushi in what feels like ages let alone the fancy pieces that we would get that... came up in Facebook updates yet again recently in the remember this day timeline.

Things went ok. Things went bad. Things went ok again and...

We walked outside and talked a bit more. About things that made us both sad and frustrated. About the past and present and ache and pain for a future that was whole and beautiful. We had two different conversations in some ways and the same absolute conversation in others.




A return to grace.

A return to quiet.

A.. not quite return to that beautiful familiarity.

Things turned and felt a bit better briefly. 




But still not there.

And as he left it was like the feeling of a train leaving. The sound carried even after we parted. It always carries. It knows not if the train will return but you are left with the memory and wish that when and if it comes again you might be able to catch a glimpse and smile... whether you see it or just feel it with the sound going elsewhere into the beyond. 

As cheesy and sad as it may all sound.. it's beautiful nonetheless. It is exactly as it should be and I wouldn't have it any different even if I could right now.

This will help strengthen me.

It will not sink me.

It's going to be ok even if it's not that familiarity I ache for right this moment or any possible moment.

It's going to be ok.

I will not sink.

I'm too stubborn to sink anyway.