When I Was 30.

Two Fridays remain before I leave my 30s. For the next two Fridays, I’m going through journals and sharing entries that represent the decades of my life.
This entry is from a couple weeks after my birthday. I did try to have a birthday party, but only 5 people came, and I was sick. So it pretty much sucked. I wrote this entry during church. A little bit of context–this guy’s sister remains a dear friend. In 2003, her daughter was baptized, which meant many members of her family–family I had spent Christmas with three years earlier–were in town for the occasion. Another key detail: when Rhett and I broke up, he told me I had “read into” our relationship and all he ever meant to be was friends.
 
Friends who apparently made out all. the. time. Friends who held hands in public. And the most egregious? Since he felt kissing me on the lips in church wasn’t appropriate, instead, he would take each of my fingers and kiss them individually or kiss me on the cheek. IN CHURCH. I’ve spent most of my life being “friends” with guys. Not one ever kissed me as much as Rhett did. 
 
Anyway, 30 was pretty bleak, I’m not gonna lie.
I have one more Friday in this series, and YOU, my half-dozen readers, YOU get to pick which year I share! I’ve been keeping journals since I was 5, so you have 35 years from which to choose. Post in the comments!
10 Aug 2003
Sitting behind me right at this moment is J’s family. I didn’t think it would bother me, seeing them. But it has.
Yesterday was K’s baptism, so of course, they all came. Not a one of them said hello. It almost makes it worse–like maybe they know Rhett’s spin on our relationship was inaccurate?
Anyway, I was okay until his dad spoke, and suddenly I remembered. 
There comes a time when the person you loved becomes an apparition–a mute apparition. I can remember Rhett’s face and the words he said, but his voice is lost. Until his dad spoke, and then I remembered what he sounded like. I couldn’t take it, so I left.
As I was playing postlude, Debbie came over to say hi and said, “This isn’t the same…” 
I nodded, and she said, “There’s a lot of pain for you today, isn’t there?”
And then I started to cry.
People don’t get how hard it has been for the past 4 years to go over to J’s house, to be her friend, to see her family–because by Rhett’s account, I was just a friend he hung out with for a couple of months. It makes me think I hallucinated all the quiet moments in his arms, that I imagined the way he looked at me.
Anyway. I didn’t even want to be here today because I knew they’d still be here. I hate it. I hate that it affects me.

4 Comments

  1. The Summer of our Discontent!! That's my vote. Which, coincidentally, is when you were 19, yes?

    Although then the world will know that I was a really crappy sister back then. Hmmmm. Maybe you should share Christmas of 2010 in Florida. I was a rock star sister then. 🙂

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  2. They're all great, and I'm sure your sisters know the juiciest ones, so I defer to them. Otherwise, 15 year old girls always have funny melodramatic stuff to share. 🙂

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