Monday

Monday marks my EDD for the baby I was supposed to have this year. On February 12th we got an unexpected surprise - a little pink + sign. On March 6th we got another unexpected surprise: the baby we thought we were going to have wasn't going to happen.

But that's not what this blog entry is about, so if you pulled out your tissues, put them away. I'm not going to cry on Monday (and not in an "I'm Not Crying" Conchords sort of way. Well maybe in an "I'm Not Crying" Conchords sort of way, who knows) because Monday is an anniversary of sorts for me.

Monday marks the 8th anniversary of sitting in a little Thai restaurant and waiting for my ex-boyfriend-I-never-stopped-loving-who-was-visiting-from-Denver to arrive. He was meeting up with a mutual friend and I to have a little Thai food and to go see Mullholland Drive. I had no idea what was going to happen. I did my hair, put on a little makeup, and then spent 45 minutes picking out something nice-but-not-sexy. When he walked through the door, I stared at my plate. I had those little flutters of the girl-who's-not-quite-over-the-cute-guy-who-just-walked-in-the-room. And I must admit, it was awesome. We finished up our food, ran off to the movie, stopped for donuts afterward, and ended up sitting in my kitchen at 1 a.m., feet up on the table, relaxing, while I read him some of my newest chapbook of poetry.

12 days later, I put in my notice to my employer and my landlord: I was moving to Denver. Honestly, in retrospect, I have no idea what I was thinking. I called my father to try to get him to talk me out of it, I think, and he simply said "If a year from now you end up moving back to Omaha, what have you lost? And if you don't, what have you gained?" So I did it. On December 13th, 2001, I packed up everything that would fit into my 1996 Nissan Sentra and took off for Denver.

When I rolled into town, I came into an empty house with Billie Holliday playing on the CD player, a dozen roses, and the most beautiful necklace I've ever seen. And a card. I can't find it at the moment, but I know it said something like "thanks for taking a chance."

And today I'm ever so grateful I did it. I closed my eyes and jumped and it's worked out so wonderfully, I cannot even begin to explain it.

In the past eight years, I've moved to a strange town, made new friends, gotten new jobs, gotten married, bought a house, had two babies, lost two babies, lost my stepfather and grandfather, and been through so much more -- with Tim at my side. Tim, that crazy ex I stumbled upon again 8 years after we dated the first time in a moment of sheer luck.

Sometimes at night I find myself thinking "Wow. I'm married to Tim. From Westin. Tim!" and I cannot believe it. Despite all of the hard stuff we've been through in the past 8 years, I'm the luckiest girl in the world because I have my bestest friend, my deepest love, and a really fucking hilarious and wonderful man at my side. :)

There you go darling. There's my post about you. :) And now, for those who haven't had the opportunity to see it, look at one of the beautiful things Tim and I made: