remember when...

Ok, so here's the thing. Bear with this introduction, it gets to the story I swear. But its a long one.

I'm not going to say that I can read minds, because I can't. I can't "tell the future", and I don't see spirits or hallucinate. (That I know of). That being said, I do have mental ability. And no ability is not a euphemism for "issues". Haha to whoever went there. ANYway, I have this ability. It goes like this: A random person/acquaintance/customer/friend will cross my mind, and I will genuinely care and wonder about them. Then, in minutes or days they appear in my life. Usually they end up coming into the coffee shop. I can't deliberately put someone on my mind and have it work where they appear. It has to be genuine concern/curiosity. I'm not talking regulars that always come. I'm talking "oh I haven't seen them in a while WHOA THERE YOU ARE".

I kind of believe our brain waves are all connected somehow. There must be power in our minds that we somehow transmit or whatever, and it effects us. Even in scripture the mind is mentioned regularly as part of our Godly life: renew your mind, guard your mind, we have been "given a sound mind"....etc. It seems that if our thought literally and truly only effected US (the only people aware of them), then it wouldn't matter what we did with our minds, or our thoughts. Why valliantly protect what is only yours, and what you have the power to keep from any person? I conclude that what is in your head directly effects those in your life whether it is actual mind energy (I know...), or if it effects people because of how you personally react to what is going on, and people suffer indirectly due to your own neuroses.

ALL THAT to say.....it happened last week, on Wednesday.
I thought I saw her at my usual hang out of the Santa Clara Fred Meyer. It wouldn't have been that unusual. I didn't know for sure because I only saw her from behind, and the only clue I had to it actually being her was the hair style. It was very distinct. Tight, curly, short and with an element of "poof", and always the same. I couldn't properly assess her identity because she was the wall looking at shoes, and I would have to blatantly look her up and down with no baricade. I didn't want to veer to far away, as the shoe department is quite near the store exit. So, I slink around, slowly lapping the shoe department. I start to feel like a creep. I have been watching too much action television about spys and hidden cameras, and all kinds of "sneaking". I decide that any minute now security is going to report a suspiciously awkward character that smells of coffee and bacon looming around the shoe department. I can't handle my own weirdness...I give up. Ugh. If its meant to be she'll see me. I finally creep myself out so much that I move on to the bank, my original destination. As I'm leaving the bank, I see the aforementioned woman whose identity I coveted knowledge of....GAH!! It isn't her!

Three days later...she emails me. This is the kind of weird mind-thought coincidence that happens to me all the time. It was quite random, and weird considering I just conducted my own creepy manhunt days prior. She asked how I was doing, and wondered how that little coffee shop was going. Maybe she would stop in and visit me while stopping at Safeway on Monday.

I reply immediately.
Please come, I'll be there.

All morning Monday I had mixed emotions. I hadn't seen her in, what, almost 3 years? Was it a family gathering? I don't recall. What would we have to say to each other? Would it be awkward? Would we have to talk about her son? I start to coach myself, "Don't ask about him...don't ask about him....don't ask about him...." I decide its too weird to ask, and I leave it at that.

Well, she came, and we had a lovely time. We talked more as friends on this day, than when her son and I were "in love". I'm a little sad now, thinking of this. As she leaves we remiscince shortly or her husband, who at one time was my work study boss. A favorite past time was to harrass him and poke fun. I know his birthday was just the day before, and ask her to pass on my "happy birthday". She is touched at my rememberance, we hug again, she leaves. The moment that broke the dam of the following flooding of memory is when the conversation went like this:

Her: "Did you ever go out to Laura and Eddy's with us?"
Me: "Yes, I believe we had Thanksgiving there a few years ago."

As the conversation dies out, and we go our separte ways, the moment became real to me when I realized I said, "...a few years ago". I do have a history. I did exist before. All of a sudden I had to ask myself what happened. There was a time when we were family. We had history. We did holidays. We did life. And as I'm suddenly remembering this on a random Monday afternoon nearly 4 years later... the sadness came. This is history that is gone.

Its gone.

This is distressing to me because all I ever want is roots. I just want to build the history that makes you have people. And when its not being stripped away from me, I'm destroying it myself.

Back to the moment, now I am just overwhelmed with a myriad of emotions. Even before her son (refered to from now on as"OJ", which does make sense, worry not) and I were anything, the family was part of my life. I worked for OJ's dad for almost 5 years. My college years were entwined with memories and experiences with all of us together. We were close, and this fulfilled a strong desire of mine to BE close to the family of whomever I ended up with. And I know that isn't always an easy or natural thing. But I meshed incredibly well with OJ and his family. Even during the times when we broke up, and had to have the awkward "we're back together" moments, his dad would hug me and say, "I hope I don't have to have you leave us again." But you can't be with a man that isn't for you, even if his family wants him to be.

When the conversation ended it was a bittersweet moment. I am so thankful for whatever "energy" put us on each other's minds, whether it was God or whatever, I don't care. I'm so thankful for her email; for her willingness to look past the awkwardness and sadness of lost love, and to be drawn to what once was. She acknowledged that our history was something; that "that time" was something. For one hour I was able to live in the real memory of something that was once lovely, and I didn't have to pretend it didn't happen.
As I watched her walk away, I felt like she was walking away with my history.
But really, she was walking away with new history.