It’s not a grudge exactly
The last handful of years or so, he’s taken to loading up me and my camera every October and driving over to the river road so we can admire the leaves, look for eagles, and stop at some seasonal shop for apples and other goodies. He always takes this really curvy hilly road I don’t think I could ever find on my own that is just everything perfect. Twisty turns and sudden stunning views and charming valleys and just that coziness of being amongst the hills, if that makes sense. I cannot not be as delighted as a child on Christmas morning on that road. He must think I’m ridiculous, but I don’t care and he keeps bringing me back so… 🤷♀😂
After several hours of that whole heart joy and love and gratitude that makes me feel like bubbles in a soda pop, I tarnished it for myself. I wanted to say all these things I was overflowing with and climb into his lap, which of course he was driving so I couldn’t do that anyway, but I wanted to pour it all out and at once I can’t help but think that would drown anyone and I’m wrestling with the old frustration of knowing even a little hasn’t generally been welcome. I could ruin it for myself or I could take the chance that he’d ruin it for me. He might not have now. That’s a new possibility. Or maybe he wouldn’t have completely and we’d have landed somewhere in the middle with my feet back on the earth but my heart not hurting. I was too much of a coward so I took the familiar tolerable discomfort of smothering my own joy, dimming the light he gave me instead of trying to give it back where it might have been rejected. I can absorb that more quickly, roll it up, tuck it away, and move on. I can give him small bits now, and he’ll take them, and it’s the loveliest thing, but when it feels that big and overwhelming even to me, I wonder if I’ll ever be brave enough to try to share that with him. It hurts so much more when the one who sent me flying is the one who brings me down. I hope someday I can just let it be another curvy road and not care so much if he doesn’t join me. I suppose he’d still keep bringing me back regardless.
After several hours of that whole heart joy and love and gratitude that makes me feel like bubbles in a soda pop, I tarnished it for myself. I wanted to say all these things I was overflowing with and climb into his lap, which of course he was driving so I couldn’t do that anyway, but I wanted to pour it all out and at once I can’t help but think that would drown anyone and I’m wrestling with the old frustration of knowing even a little hasn’t generally been welcome. I could ruin it for myself or I could take the chance that he’d ruin it for me. He might not have now. That’s a new possibility. Or maybe he wouldn’t have completely and we’d have landed somewhere in the middle with my feet back on the earth but my heart not hurting. I was too much of a coward so I took the familiar tolerable discomfort of smothering my own joy, dimming the light he gave me instead of trying to give it back where it might have been rejected. I can absorb that more quickly, roll it up, tuck it away, and move on. I can give him small bits now, and he’ll take them, and it’s the loveliest thing, but when it feels that big and overwhelming even to me, I wonder if I’ll ever be brave enough to try to share that with him. It hurts so much more when the one who sent me flying is the one who brings me down. I hope someday I can just let it be another curvy road and not care so much if he doesn’t join me. I suppose he’d still keep bringing me back regardless.
