Not much to speak of.

November 13th, 2007

This NaBloPoMo thing is getting really challenging for me.

I’m typically of the opinion, that if I don’t have anything to say, don’t say anything.

But NaBloPoMo is making me speak.

I’ve longed believed that those people who are my closest friends are those with whom I can be around and neither of us feel the need to say anything. Wanting to say something is another story. But needing? Nope. Just comfortable as is. And their presence does not feel like an invasion of my space. (And I require LOTS of space.)

(Likely a quality of a hard core introvert such as myself. I want to hand this out to everyone I meet. “Hi, I’m Regina, and I’m an introvert. Here’s my manual.”)

I noticed that comfort with Tim right away in those early days of us spending time and getting to know one another. The day after our first date of sorts - a day long motorcycle ride along the NoCal coast, he was housesitting in Mill Valley for the week and invited me to join him. I was all too glad for more adventure and the opportunity to escape my apartment in Berkeley. We cheerfully shopped for groceries, listened to music while preparing dinner in the kitchen, I toasted pecans for salad and he picked out wine for us. After dinner, we would take walks down to the end of the road, into a little mini forest. And we each found our own tree… or log… or rock… and just sat for a while. Still. Quiet. Appreciating our own individual spaces and experiences. Apart yet together. It was SO comfortable being with him.

It still is. But it’s now a different sort of comfort. We all know that as time passes, passions morph and relationships evolve. It’s no longer the comfort of, say, a new mattress, but more like an old bathrobe.

I guess one could say I take him for granted in that I anticipate his presence in my life as something true, real, and forthcoming. And don’t we all want to anticipate such as well as be anticipated about?

***

So, today while walking to get coffee at work, one of the many random thoughts to drift through my brain was triggered when I saw a girl with a band-aid on her knee. “I can’t even remember the last time I fell and required band-aids as a result.”

Fast-forward 4 hours later… I got off work and walked to my car. I unknowingly stepped on a rock about the size of an acorn and fell, slipping down in slow-mo until I was totally eating asphalt. After being impressed that nothing fell out of my tote and my clothes were intact (and, of course, looking around to see if anyone saw me (negative)), I evaluated the carnage on the left side of my body. I really gashed my palm, seriously scraped my elbow (of the it’s-going-to-get-a-thick-nasty-scab variety), got a big knot in my knee, and scraped up my thigh.

I. Am. Soooo. Sore.

And covered in band-aids.

An example of the power of our thoughts?

Just in case, I guess I better start thinking about more positive things.