I Don't Think I'm Who He Thought I Was


 Some nights are like this in Suwanee, Georgia. The ottoman: new. The feet: the very same. I feel pressured to write something profound because it's New Year's Day. I've kept good company the past few days. It's made me happy to do just exactly as I please.

I fully sober left my cell phone in an Uber Saturday night. I suppose I was distracted by good company. You know that feeling when you're high from a show and just laughing and telling stories and happy? Despite the cold, the whole night was that way. German beer in an Irish pub and "shaking like a chihuahua" standing on the curb waiting for the car. The offer of a flannel, or a jacket, or anything I'd have accepted to make me more comfortable. Not wanting to overstep. An excellent show. Songs that made me think too hard about what's gone now. Forgetting my ID and wearing the underage band I've not had to wear for a decade and a half. I will never not love Lilly. Even if she forgot her Rickey. Or at least wasn't playing it, to my dismay. I will still call that a fantastic night.



I don't believe I'll ever see the phone again. So here I am texting with my left thumb and not even looking on this flip phone like it's 2004. A trick that impresses the boy. It still takes half an hour to send a text. So just call me already. I know, I'm a bad millennial. I made it home from Athens with no GPS. Through the whole ordeal, I barely felt any anxiety. I knew it was going to be fine. I made it to the AT&T store with no GPS.

New Year's Eve as a tourist in a place I used to live. A light dinner and having not eaten enough all day with the circumstances. Rose and drunk women down the bar and an older couple asking about the Brussels. She chose the same rose as I did. People staring at my hair. I didn't even wear mascara. Apple Crown and diet is a thing, evidently. I will not be drinking that. A lovely view of the fireworks, no kiss. Holding onto those for someone. Another fortunate trunk bottle shared and a buzz a little too deep until I just decided that I'd had more than enough. Still with the bottle on the table not empty. Commentary that my legs are as long as the 6'3" man. Yes, I'm legs up to my neck.

I made it out to Vinings and home with no GPS. On my way home, I stopped the coffee shop that used to be my favorite and got a shot in the dark and pimento cheese biscuit. The place was exactly the same as the last time I was there probably eight years ago. That was unnervingly comforting. I stood just looking around and soaking up the feeling that isn't quite nostalgia, but definitely a feeling of familiarity and a picking out the perfect times in that place. Honey and half and half.

Today, I cleaned. And boy did I clean. The boy comes home and is shocked and awed by the state of the place. It smells like Pledge and Mr. Clean and Soft Scrub and a little of bleach. There are coasters on the coffee table and a charging station tucked away in a cabinet. There's a plant on the hearth. The rugs are all washed and the bathrooms scrubbed and the carpets and floors are pristine. I love the feeling of walking barefoot on clean floors. The coat closet is cleaned out and tidied. There's a lamp on the end table. My ugly, beautiful, Hollywood Regency nightlight lamp. The bench by the door inviting people to take off their damn shoes before they tramp through my clean house.

I didn't get the tree down. Bad luck. But the sparkling clean start should more than make up for a superstition. I did unplug it for the last time this year. I'll drag it on down to the basement tomorrow. What a lovely tree. I'll clean up those two extra rooms that we never use and my whole house will be perfect.

I made myself cilantro lime chicken and ate it over a salad. I didn't have the energy for dollars and sense/cents. Not that it ever really helped me anyhow. I showered and put on clean pajamas. I may have some fruit. That sounds good after a weekend of eating like an actual possum. My appetite and self-control seem to have stabilized.

There was a cat asleep on my lap until a moment ago. He chose when to sit with me and I was still until he was ready to go. I will miss that furry terrorist. Maybe he knows and that's how he was saying goodbye. I love him.

There's a feeling of finality and freshness in the night. The day made my heart full in every possible way. On my way home, I felt myself well up. It wasn't sadness, just quantity and quality of feeling. It's a wonderful feeling to feel teary and not feel sad. It's a wonderful feeling not to feel sad. I'd been holding that pattern a while.

So perhaps that is the profundity I was called to. Contentment. Not a feeling so euphoric I feel high, not the hole. A gentle warmth and a clean home and my only child upstairs exhausted, but home and mine. A glass of lemonade and a cat on my lap and room for the box of tissues by the lamp. Some nights are like that in Suwanee, Georgia. This is the first.

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