Friday, March 11, 2011

Lonely Tonight

People ask how I’m doing, and when you grade on the curve of the last year and a half of my life, I’m doing pretty amazing.

But tonight, I’m sad.

I’ve felt it’s safe enough to listen to a little of my old music.  The other day my bestie was over helping me pack my kitchen, and holding my ancient ipod, she said, “What of this can you listen to?  Is any of it going to be hard?”  I said, “Well, probably most of it.”  So we picked Indigo Girls.  It was always our favorite, hers and mine.  And it was fun.  Fun to hear familiar words again.  I know just about every word on just about every album.

Tonight the words of one of the songs keeps running through my head, though, and I’m lamenting my choice to listen to anything other than the stupid, safe Mercy Me CD that everyone makes fun of me for playing in one continuous year and a half loop in my car. 

I’m lonely tonight
I’m missing you now
I’m wanting your love
And you’re giving it out
I’m lonely tonight
I’m lonely tonight

It’s impossible to explain how the simple little things in day-to-day life make me just long for him.  I miss calling him when I got off work to tell him what my daily total was.  No one cares about that now but me.  I had a heck of a time getting my necklace off tonight.  I wanted to ask him to get it for me.  There’s a new show on TV (a reality show about restaurants) that he would have been so into, would have been trying to figure out a way to be a contestant.  I wish I could at least tell him about it.

And, last night, I left my house to pick up dinner and on my way there a mosquito landed on my windshield.  My first thought was “Weird.  A mosquito in March.”  It was almost immediately followed by “There must be a hatch on the South Platte.”  I was only less than a mile from the river (it runs through Denver) and that particular bug is one that the trout really love.  I’d seen Sawan catch them and really look them over, trying to figure out how to tie some exact replica to attract the fish.  He would have said that exact sentence as a fly-fisherman, but, not having done much fishing myself, this was something that I learned because I loved him so much.  My eyes welled up.  He would have been so in love with me, so proud.


  1. <3 you. So much. So much. I shared this on my wall. Can we pack and listen to some more, soon? Monday? Just another Manic Monday. So brave, emotion dripping honesty and your tender heart. Love your guts and want to see you so soon. xo

  2. It's amazing what we know because of who we love. It makes us bigger people, more whole. And, we'll always have a hook in heaven, drawing us home.

    I know the most random things about backcountry skiing, snow conditions, and backpacking gear, and not ALL of it is from my job (which I got because my husband died). God's just so much bigger than our hearts.

  3. Noel you just... gahhhh... break my heart and I can't imagine trying to shelter myself from feeling these emotions with you... through your writing, I find my own love and pain and sadness. It feels wonderful. So much better than just trying to be "ok" with everything. I don't even really want to be ok.... I'd rather be all those things any day as long as I can keep moving forward.