SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Friday, Feb. 26, 2016 @ 4:16 pm
Chris/Skiing



I dream of Chris again. The feeling of him being near me haunts me, comforts me, lingers endlessly in my heart. My mild floats around, and I imagine walking down the aisle of Holy Rosary towards him, with my Dad. I see him smiling at me, and as my Dad passes me off to him, I whisper I love you. I've never thought about these kinds of things before.

I meditate on it, wondering what to do. Wondering if this is a challenge that a greater power has set out for me. To humble me, to test me. What is my directive? Is this a test of courage - that is, do I have the courage to pursue this and a life without regrets? Or is it a test of loyalty, to Daniel, to the last 10 years, however challenging, to grow within myself and know that relationships are difficult and that they require patience and care. A test of my courage to know my place in the world and not be drawn into flights of fancy. This is what tears me apart. The not knowing the right thing to do.

I stop taking the pill, and the night sweating subsides. Once, maybe twice, in the last two weeks, and not all the way through to the sheets. I'm back to natural family planning, taking my temperature every morning, charting the changes to my body, inspecting my underwear each day. There's a sense of calm, of control, in following this method. Of knowing myself, and the small little high of knowing that it could lead to pregnancy. Which I'm nearly certain that I would not terminate.

I watch children more closely now. I smile at them, am jealous of the mothers I see pushing strollers around when I go out to walk at lunchtime. Their babies faces relaxed, their lips smooshed in luscious bows, their eyes closed with afternoon drowse. When we go to Daniel's sister's house, I play endlessly with her son, and he crawls into my lap and touches my face, and it makes my heart swell so large.

I recieve ski passes for the weekend. Downhill. My gear is from 1995. I don't care. It worked for me then. I call my Dad. He wants to go. I have another pass to spare. Daniel is busy. I hesitate for a few days. I toss around at night, mustering my courage. And then, in the morning, the first thing that I do is email Chris to see if he wants to come. Skiing. With me. And my Dad.

He immediately agrees.

I can already feel the cold air on my face. Of his warm leg pressed against my as we ride up on the chairlift. I can see the snowy mountains, layered one upon each other, infinitely to the horizon.

We both grew up on these slopes.

And I can't wait to be there, on them, with him.


Roots | Shoots