A few years ago, I was sitting with some friends on their deck, suffering through some of the most severe heartache I’d ever known. I was crying, and wondering how I would ever NOT feel like shit again. These friends – who are the very best kind of friends – assured me that I would survive.
They said, “Kristi, stop trying to make sense out of nonsense. Focus on your kids. Focus on YOU and where YOU are headed.”
I cried and cried. And then I cried some more. These people endured my tears for a LONG time. Sometimes I wondered if I’d ever laugh and mean it again. They picked me up – literally and figuratively – and reminded me that I would be ok. That I would laugh again. That I would love again.
I sort of believed them.
Today, I was sitting on that same deck with those same friends. I was eating some damn good ribs, and I was laughing, and next to me was a man who brings the kind of love & light into my world that I hope I return to him in at least some small measure.
And I thought back to before – to when I believed my cracked heart would kill me – and I smiled because my friends were right. I survived. I laugh – and mean it. I love and am loved in return.
And then you know what I did?
I ate some pie.