Along the broken road

"This is a good place for broken hearts," I told Mom. We stood on the pier beneath a sunset that set the horizon on fire. Water lapped the rocks gently, consistently. God I needed something consistent. The wine was sweet. I was bitter.

But I knew I'd be ok. I'd taken the first step. I left. And so much led up to that moment and all the moments since. And I won't go into the why and how and the mess of ending that five year relationship. It was over long before that day.

I lost a lot of weight. I tried to remember who I was before. And then I realized I'd never be the before again. So it was time to define the after. And I got good and drunk and ran a half-marathon (I didn't run the marathon drunk, 'cause one time in college we played a soccer game drunk and we ended up tossing our cookies in the locker room during the first quarter). I re-connected with old friends, and new friends. I kept busy as much as I could. And there were setbacks and wounds ripping open now and again. But when I look back I remember the sunsets. And I remember thinking that I was going to be ok. That maybe someday I'd meet a good, and kind man.

So last night, sitting next to cute bf telling him about my BlogHer opportunity I realized I've met such a good and such a kind man. Because I was rambling on about this blog and these silly things I do that make me happy, and he looked in my eyes and said, "It's not stupid. Don't say that. It's important because it's important to you."

And how simple is that. But its taken me years to understand: something that matters to me, matters.

That day on the pier looking out over the bay I felt lost. And I also felt a sense of hope that I couldn't understand at the time.

I do now.