This weekend was fabulous. Wind in your hair, shine in your shoes and a smile on your face fabulous.
Or, to be more correct, I suppose it was rain in my hair, red Converse sneakers, giant grin on my face, and the sun in my soul (even though it rained all weekend) fabulous.
Someone came to town, and boy howdy, do I wish he were able stay. There was cooking. There was kissing. There was giggling. And there was dancing. Lots and lots of dancing.
There was also, inexplicably, bowling.
My mom watched this movie yesterday. When she called to see how my weekend with Someone had gone, she casually mentioned watching D’s movie, and then informed me she had two comments regarding said movie. Comment one, was that Someone was very handsome, and quite a smooth bowler to boot (both true). Comment two was, “Hilary, you really are a terrible bowler.”
But I am even more terrible at being inside my own life at the moment. Because Someone is gone, and there is all this room now, in a bed too big, kitchen too hollow, chairs too empty, I am one and should be two, kind of way.
My friend E sometimes says, in moments of girl hysteria, that she is just too much for herself.
I am always too much for myself. Too much talking, too much laughing, too much singing, dancing, giggling and noise-making. Too much for anybody else to handle, so I’ll just take care of everything myself, thank you very much.
But now, I have found someone who can not only handle it, but who revels in it. Who also talks and laughs and sings and dances and giggles and makes a lot of noise. A lot of noise. It’s a little like living with a small tiger, actually. And despite the fact that I am often bursting at the seams of my life, it has been shockingly easy to make room for him in it. I always assumed that relationships require serious Tetris in order to work: you move here, I slide here, this job goes, this hobby stays, these words get to stay, these need to be silenced, wiggle, wiggle a little more, shake it really hard to test it, okay.
But this wasn’t Tetris. This wasn’t even hard. This is…it. It just is. I just know. And it wasn’t even a matter of making room, it was simply letting him fill up the place in my life that has been waiting for him all along.
So, yes, I am a terrible bowler. Though, I will have you know, not that it matters, not that you care, and not that it makes any sort of difference or adds to the dramatic value of this story in any way, that I did once get a strike during this particular bowling match. Ahem. I am also terrible at math, getting out of bed in a timely fashion, letting go of grudges and playing the guitar. I’m over it.
But I also love him terribly, which, for now, cancels out my being terrible at anything else, because all I need is this.
And that is just giant grin on my face fabulous.