11:22 p.m. - August 10, 2010
Wistful
I've passed through the bitter stage and into the wistful, meaning today I don't hate other peoples' happiness or pine for my own, but I smile a half smile and move on with my day. Over the past few days touchy-feely videos have punctured my Facebook and I've had the misfortune of watching a few, like this one: Soldier Homecomings. No more being a hater, so I watch like everybody else does and smile my half smile. I wonder what it feels like to be so missed and wanted that people run up to hug you or jump into your arms, or to have people burst into tears and exclaim and shout and hug and nestle close all at once. I wonder what it feels like to be the object of affection and that kind of love, something deep and real and true. I'd like to think more people experience that than don't.
How does it make you feel? I want to know, if you'll try to explain.
I bought a loft. Opened the door, turned to my real estate agent, and said I'll buy it. It's done. I sign the papers next week.
Thinking about eating breakfast on the rooftop deck overlooking the harbor makes me smile a half smile.
I hope the other half of the smile catches up some day but some is better than nothing.
