I'm not really the weepy type. I consider myself a tough chick. I yell stuff at the "break a nail" women on TV about how they should suck it up and, you know, actually matter. I consider myself a Buffy type.
But it kind of hit me today as I opened the door to a blast of cold air: Angelica's been gone for almost half a year. I got a little misty. It wasn't because of anything big, like you see in movies; I wasn't carved out by sudden loss.
It's the little stuff. The devil's in the details. All that happened was I got a lungful of cold air, the same as has been happening to me for over 20 years. But this time it reminded me of how much Angelica hated the cold. It's stupid--I should see something that reminds me of something she loved, you know? Something that's associated with her, which I guess this is.
But it's like seeing a horse and being reminded how your best friend never rode horses. That's stupid.
Anyway, I might not get a chance to post something else until after Christmas. Jet and I will be celebrating by ourselves, since my mom's in one of her moods and decided I'm out of her favor this week. I don't even know if she reads this. Don't care. Hi Mom!! Merry Up Yours and Happy Ho-Days!
Sorry, dirty laundry. But looking at that last sentence makes me smile and helps me forget that Angelica hated winter. And when spring comes, I'll be reminded how she made fun of my allergies. Then summer will come and I'll remember how happy she was with the warmth and sun. And in the fall, I'll get weepy when the anniversary of our first meeting comes around.
I hate feelings sometimes. Merry Christmas (except you, Mom).
~R
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