I remember, don’t worry.

Posted on June 3, 2011

2


I’m listening to Duke Ellington and walking through town. Orange light is spilling across the pavement and headlights are starting to come on. The smell of fried food coming from a Chinese restaurant from a nearby plaza seems more like an emotion than a scent. It reminds me of that one evening several years ago when I went to Arts, Beats and Eat with some of my closest friends. My relationships with those friends are very different now (or not the relationships, but more the geographical distance), and fried rice reminds me of those changes.

While I particularly love walks with my husband or my dog, when I am walking by myself it helps me face things I haven’t given myself space to think about. For instance, how alone I was during the wedding planning process. I felt left out to dry, and so I planned everything by myself while swinging from the clothesline. I had people in my group of friends tell me to let them know if I ever needed help with anything. I didn’t need help. Carrying out tasks was not the issue as evidence by the fact that I single-handedly planned my whole wedding and nothing caught on fire. I needed a companion. I had my fiancée, but I needed someone to share all my wedding ideas with, someone to gush about the details with. (He was involved with planning and helped me significantly–it just didn’t matter to him all the emotional steps that were involved in picking my colors.) Instead, I ended up just consulting with myself at 2 AM in almost every night in a bonus room in the middle of winter. Maybe I should have just hired the Eva Longoria look-alike woman who helped me pick my dress. She did wedding planning on the side according to her business card. Pro-tip for my next life when I come back as a cat: hire Eva Longoria and let her be your best friend. Wedding planning isn’t supposed to be lonely.

And now it’s all just sour, and walking into a bridal store to get a bridesmaids dress for a different wedding made my stomach chain itself to my rib cage. I should be feeling nostalgic and squishy, not overwhelmed. I feel at least mildly better for admitting all of this.

The heat this evening reminded me of my family and our friends’ family would go camping every 4th of July in the thumb. After our adventures during the day, after coming home from the beach, we’d all walk down to the ice cream store, talk about the application of the word “stagnant” in culture and slurp our sugary treats on our way back. There’s not much that was better than those walks, except the occasional night when I’d be up too late and would be eating midnight Cheerios, the only one still awake on the camp site, fighting the mosquitoes and gnats away from the singular light in the tent.

The frogs in the pond behind the house sound like they are coughing or perhaps sighing. The wedding I went to this last weekend was wonderful. There were so many people I haven’t seen in ages in one place (sort of like a graduation party, except I didn’t invite them). Lots of catching up on all the boring details in my life the last four years (no time to explain all the granular level interesting tidbits)(it’s like the more large-scale the detail is, the closer to small talk we get), lots of enjoying the half-sunshine and lots of introducing my husband to people I’ve known for the better part of a decade.

I was particularly happy with the dress I had on. I had only tried it on once before when I bought it, and I was worried that with only fifteen minutes before needing to leave that the dress that fit me perfectly at Thanksgiving was going to suddenly show off a bra strap or refuse to fit me correctly. But no, it was perfect.

Aggressively blooming honeysuckle, dryer sheets. I want to go home.

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