After a hectic, stressful week of too much going on and being sick to boot, I was walking past Gary yesterday evening when he just reached out and put his arms around me. I sat down with him, and we relaxed with just the glow of the Christmas tree lighting the room, and we talked and held each other for a long time. I am still struck sometimes by the sight of him, being able to hug him, after so long of not being able to.
Such a simple thing, sitting together and talking, but I woke up this morning feeling renewed, recharged. It’s easy to get tangled in the clutter of life, grumping about my stuffy nose or my raw throat or how the cats can make a hell of a mess for such little creatures, and I start to miss what is right in front of me: love. Laughter. My family.
Tomorrow the kids will be with us for a week, and I am grateful that after so many relentless efforts to keep them apart, they will have this time together. I am grateful that Gary is home, and that we have let our struggles bind us together instead of tear us apart.
This past year has also given me perspective on the negative and hateful behaviors of others who refuse to let go of their hostility and bitterness. I can’t control that. I have accepted that. Try as I may, I can’t help but feel dimly sorry for people whose existences revolve around finding out what I am doing, if they can use that against me or Gary somehow, what lies can be cooked up, if there is any drama they stir in our lives. I don’t understand settling for such a pathetic existence when so much more is possible in life, but then again, I don’t need to understand it. Ultimately they will need to face their own hollow souls and come to terms with what they do.
After dealing with the twists and turns of life, you either learn what is truly important and let go of the junk, or you skid to a mind-numbing, heart-rotting stagnancy. Apparently some people are complacent there. I am grateful that I am not.