||looking cute, feeling cute.
Sometimes I like to think about my life as chapters from a book. A comedy, most likely, with witty chapter titles. Chapter 1: the day I was ripped from my mother's womb. Chapter 6: Hair, hair, everywhere. And of course Chapter 11: To all the men I've loved before (and a fuck you to the ones who never loved me back). Every day is a line from the story, every season is the start of a new chapter, and you're never quite sure which characters are still going to be there when you turn the page. And I've never been able to grasp that concept, although I've dealt with the re-casting of my life more times than I'd wish to say. When is the exact moment when you realize that you can no longer relate to someone anymore, whether you call them lover or friend? Is it something that changes? In you or in them? Both? All I know is that I've had these moments where I look at someone and it's like, our chapter is over now, isn't it? And as much as I wish I could bring some of them along with me to the end of my story, I can't. Because they've served their purpose or I've served mine and the plot is played out and really this entry is just turning into a lot of literature analogy now, but I think you get what I mean. I've never been good at letting people go, but sometimes it happens unwillingly.
The other night an old heartache of mine signed on and we talked for three hours about everything that had gone wrong with us in the past. Wrong with us romantically, friendship-wise, and everything else. My flaws, his flaws, our flaws combined. We were probably wrong for each other in every sense of the word and I've never in my entire life experienced anything quite as intense as I did during our fleeting chapter, but it was nice just to talk it all out finally. Finally after a year or more and when it doesn't even matter now. Which is very typical of me to do. In fact, my timing is always so awful in every aspect of life that the title of my book should be Keri Russell: Never On Time since I'm always either too early or too late. I hope, for my child's sake, that bad luck isn't genetic.
But for now, my story is solely going to be focused on becoming a mother. And even though looking in from the outside it may seem like bad timing on my part, this is actually one of the only times when I really do feel like it's exactly what I want. Because now I get to look forward to my baby's chapter; the one about first smiles and first laughs. First steps and first falls. First hugs and first kisses. And there's nothing more exciting or more life altering than any of that.
Unfortunately, I also decided that I needed to brush up on my Disney movies in order to prepare for whenever the baby does decide it's ready to see daylight, which led me to watch this which means I will be spending the rest of the evening sobbing over my keyboard. I'd like to blame it on hormones, but I dare any of you to make it through that scene without welling up just a little bit.