The Return.

Last night was very strange. It was not very dramatic, or very loud, or very harsh. It was just very strange.

Tom came over with The Bear and my other things in tow. We stood across from each other, me with my arms folded, he with his arms at his side in his characteristic stance, making awkward small talk. At one point he looked into my eyes, and with a small shake of his head and the slightest smile on his lips said,
"I'm really sorry about all of this..." with a sort of halfhearted embarassed chuckle, the sort of noise you make when your dog pisses all over your least favorite relative.

We stayed in our proper roles for the entire encounter. He as the wise, distant, complicated, prodigal figure and I as the probing, edgy, misunderstanding but well-intentioned young soul, managed to find some words to say until our voices trailed off and we stood simply nodding at the other. I couldn't help crying if for nothing else than for all the wasted emotional energy and all of the empty thoughts, words, and promises of the past. He hugged me, as protocol demanded, but it was cold and empty - much like many of his embraces during the latter part of our actual relationship.

He wanted the ring back, and so I said he could have it. It was the final piece of the circle: from eager, brash, declarations of love; to setting up the proper release from those immature, premature obligations; to excuses for wrongly thinking that I was the one; to the final rescinding of that first and final declaration.

It's fine. I certainly don't have any reason to cherish it forever, and while I do feel (strongly) that it was not his place to ask for it back, it's not anything worth causing more drama over.

Today I did laundry and washed the three t-shirts of mine he had, things I'd given him to remind me of me so he wouldn't be so lonely while we were apart. I kept Smirky on the coffee table as I finished reading Sting's autobiography. I think the strangest part of this whole experience is the way that my bear feels to me now. When I was younger, I took Smirks everywhere. Sometimes I'd even bring him in the car to school and leave him there so I could look forward to a hug at the end of the day. I stored (in a psychological sense, of course) all sorts of happy, squealing, love-filled energy into my bear. When I came back from college last summer, I expected that Smirky would feel empty to me - that I would realize that he was just an object, just a stuffed animal. I was surprised to find that hugging him still had the same effect as always.

Last night he felt the way I thought he would after I came back from college. It was like all of the feeling had leaked away while he was stuffed up in Tom's closet. And I know that it's silly, because there was never anything more there than what was in my mind...nonetheless, that was what I felt. I know, I know...it's just a toy, Jenn. And - in spite of that - it is good to have him back.

I went home for a short time this evening and was supposed to stay for dinner, but I left early. I just felt out of sorts, like it was important to be alone and to work myself out of this funk. I know that was probably selfish, but...I couldn't figure out what to do with myself. I picked up my guitar, tuned it, learned a few short songs, and then I felt like it was time to retreat back to my own space, to sort out my thoughts and feelings and to find a more positive frame of mind with which to greet tomorrow...

On the drive home, I did a lot of thinking (unsurprisingly). I managed to scare myself about the fact that working full time is no small task - and as things are now, with me living on my own by myself, I feel like I don't have a lot of free time. I can't imagine fitting an entire family life into the times after work and on the weekend. I don't want a family to be an extracurricular to me, I don't want sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day to be my main focus in life. I want to have a family, and I want to be in a family, and I don't want it to be something I just "fit in" - I want it to be the main focus of my life. I am almost certain that I won't be able to stand having a "desk job" for the rest of my life - that while I do want a career, I want something less structured and routine than what I face now. (At the same time, I don't think that my life is going to "suck", regardless of what I end up doing. Once I get out of this funk, I know I won't sound or feel like nearly such a lost, romantic, bleeding heart. )