Converstations in the Car

Darrin and I are sitting in the car after school. We are having our weekly alone time while Nicholas has his marimba lesson.

He is quiet for a while and then he asks, "Did the groundhog see his shadow?"

"Nope."

"So, what does that mean?"

"I think it means six more weeks until Spring."

Pause.

"What if he did see his shadow?"

"Then we'd have six more weeks of winter."

"Oh."

Long, thoughtful pause.

"Okay. What's the point? It's the same."

I had to laugh. Then have my own long thoughtful pause.

My ten-year-old analyzed something that took me until my mid-twenties to realize.



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Dear John-Snow:

It's not you; it's me.

In the beginning, it seemed like a good idea. I thought of you longingly back in July. You don't know this, but Heat is unbearable-- smothering, suffocating, shameless.

I broke it off with Heat because it was you that I desired. However, I don't think I fully understood what you were bringing to the party.

Living in the South, I really thought we'd be a good match. You'd trickle in unexpectedly, quietly and softly, leaving little trace of your existence.

Perhaps I misunderstood?

I was not prepared for this type of commitment. My life has been turned upside down. I feel as though you are mocking me.

It's just not going to work.

After finally getting out of a pretty intense relationship with Heat, I am still scrambling to fix the mess that was left behind.

You said you understood and promised you wouldn't do the same.

And yet, here we are.

We had a good couple of months, but I just can't take anymore.

I think we should just be friends. I am sorry.

Love,
Me

P.S On second thought: It's not me. It's YOU.