Friday night, after I was already in pajama pants and parked in front of my laptop, I got a text invitation to Bua’s house. If my life were a movie, this is where the dramatic, suspenseful music would start up.
Before I could give any lazy thoughts time to grow, I told her I was in. I also made sure she actually wanted me to come and she wasn’t just asking because she expected me to say no. If you are wondering about the pants situation, I cheated; I replaced my pajama pants with yoga pants. (Sometimes I am excellent at life.)
And so, I spent the last few hours of January sitting next to Bua, as we ate our emotions and cried during a movie. It felt a little like I wasn’t only crying because of the movie. It was a hard January, as I’ve mentioned a time or 5, and that Friday happened to mark the end of The Way Things Were.
The good news is that at some point between General Tso’s chicken and this post, the belief that everything would be okay took a seat in my brain. The confusing news is that it was kind of sad.
It’s a hard feeling to explain. My head decided before my heart that there was no time to spend in front of a gravestone for The Way Things Were. Walking away from that place, though, from that grave, meant leaving something good behind. So good, in fact, that trying to move on made me feel a little bit guilty.
My head had to tell my heart that it was okay to be okay.