My Friend texted yesterday to ask if I wanted to see some of the pictures from their vacation a couple weeks ago. I thought, “Sure, why not? That’s what friends do.” And I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to look at them, figuring there would be some heartache to go with–”but I wanted to do that.” My heart hurt for a few minutes, dreading the possible response and the aftermath.
So when he sent them, I saved them to my laptop and went on about my evening before having a peep.
I finally I looked. And looked again.The cabin where they stayed was beautiful, and the scenery was stunning, no question about it. I would like to visit there sometime myself, just based on this. It was the kind of scenery (river, woods, mountains) that speaks to my soul, fits who I am. But I still felt….not much.
He was hoping for a different reaction, some kind of excited feedback, maybe even that I wish it had been me.
It’s not depression; I’m in a great frame of mind. At times I’m a little weary, but at others, I’m exhilarated the way I usually am at this time of year. Putting all the parts together into one, big, beautiful series of events is a sight to behold. It’s extremely gratifying to watch as the moving pieces work together to become something bigger.
The remodeling and cleaning up are keeping me occupied, as is attempting to connect and date. Prospects at least seem good right now in other areas of life. But I should feel more than this.
So it was and is a surprise to me that my reaction is less than enthusiastic.
I wish I could say more. It truly was beautiful.
Did I want to be there? Then, maybe some. Now, not so much.
Do I wish it had been me? Yes. With Mine, whenever I find him.
Was it exciting? For them, I’m certain it was.
Guess you just had to be there.