Thursday, December 4

"I was thinking of you earlier when I was at the grocery store," Michelle said in the soothing voice that drew me all the way out to Naperville last night despite Jan's protest that it was sleeting outside and I would surly die between the weather and the state of mind I was demonstrating. Gloria, Michelle's two year old daughter, was all smiles, leading me to her brand new bedroom painted with thick, pink stripes. I curled up next to Gloria which happened to be in her closet and Gloria handed me her clothes one hanger at a time.

"Why were you thinking of me?" I asked with a sloppy smile. Michelle smiled deviantly and grabbed a paper bag to which bore gifts.

"Because this is what you always do. You are always giving. You are always wanting to give and give. I thought of you and how your mind works- you are in the grocery store and you see things for other people. And now, it's your time to receive." Michelle pulled out a decadent pair of pink and white slippers, perfect for that evening of soul comfort which I immediately slipped into. She pulled out Oreos and comforting cookie dough. And lastly, she pulled out matching packs of tissues with a cat balancing itself on an ornament. One for her and one for me. I couldn't be luckier. I didn't deserve it.

"But I have to show you something," she said. We went to one of the many boxes strewn about the living room. (She just moved last Saturday). "Do you remember when you made me this?" she asked. I took the large, spiral book and read the first page. To Michelle on her eighteenth birthday, it read. "Ten years ago."

In true consistency, when I find things that I have made people, I am amazed. When I see what I have made or created for people, I am always stunned that it came from me. That I had thought of that. Or that I spent so much time on something. Love kind of pours back at me. Sometimes it really hurts to see how vulnerably in love I can be. In this particular book that I gave Michelle, were little tips of love, inspiration, Bob Dylan, quotes, encouragement, and pictures. Tons and tons of pictures and remnants from the our childhood and high school years. So goofy. So beautiful. So sweet. We poured over the book, pointing and giggling. The many Adams. The awkward braces. The love letters and silly strings of words that held so much depth to our history.

"See?" she said. "That's you. That's us. It's amazing. Let's not forget that."

Extracted from the book to which I traced over with my finger even ten years later:
Get away from me
Get away from me
This isn't gonna be easy, but I don't need you believe me
Yeah you got a piece of me, but it's just a little piece of me
-Have You Seen Me Lately Counting Crows
(It's the breathing. In and out and in.)

posted by Jenny Thursday, December 04, 2008

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