Blue Friday

Against all odds, my children actually do want to rise at the crack of dawn to go shopping on Black Friday. I had gone to bed thinking it was merely a fantasy. That when the alarms sounded, they’d turn them off, turn over, and turn in for another few hours of sleep.


Not so.

Hil’s alarm sounded and she quietly and peaceably went into Pat’s room to nudge him awake. They agreed to get ready and let me sleep until the very last possible minute. At least the last possible minute in their game plan.

By 6:30 am we were on the road. By 7 the car was parked at the biggest mall in the area and we were joining the reindeer games. The kids were like puppies with their unbridled enthusiasm. I was more Scrooge with a fake smile.

Each kid had money to buy gifts for each other. The change jar had been counted and we’d amassed enough for each of them to spend $30. I let each of them take a little out of their accounts to buy for other people – Lars, Liza, friends they wanted to exchange with. And from the ATM where we’d engaged in high finance, we all departed from each other, cell phones turned on and a promise to answer when we call each other.

When the kids have scampered out of sight, I find the nearest Starbucks, get a latte, have a seat and take to Facebook. I have had something brewing inside that I must post.

I find a YouTube of Don Henley’s Heart of the Matter, listen all the way through, manage not to cry, and then post it to Facebook.

I post this for Someone who will never see it. For as much as yesterday was about giving thanks, today, for me, is about forgiveness and moving on.

I wonder if Scott’s daughters will give it a listen. I am sure they’d never heard of the song and wouldn’t listen far enough into hear the “even if, even if you don’t love me” part. Maybe they’ll care enough to listen. Probably not. It will more likely be the hopeless romantic girl next door and the boyfriend who take note.

But the post is really for me. I have decided not to waste a single minute more wondering what happened and wishing I had a chance to change things. I need to let go and move on.

But the letting go is hard. I loved my life with Scott. I miss my life with Scott. I wonder if I’ll find anything as close to perfect as what I had with Scott. I have to stop longing for it. I can never ever count on that again. It is time to focus on what my future might look like without the possibility of Scott.

I get a few messages privately about the post. A friend from school applauds my taking the high road and moving on, however painfully. My high school English teacher, who is also in touch with Scott asks how I am doing, since he’s gathered from the Henley song that my relationship with Scott is over.

I am amazed by the kindness I have been shown. The concern. The love. Some of it from some very unlikely sources. It’s not like my house burned down or my parents both perished in an unfortunate, highly publicized hot air balloon mishap. It’s a break up. A break up of astronomical proportions, but still.

My faith in humanity is restored, even though Scott had nearly left it in shreds. Perhaps there is hope that I’ll surprise myself and get happy.