Not one

My brain has been a scramble lately.  I've been entangled in a web of work, home, husband, baby, and life.  I'm constantly amazed at how fast it's going and I'm a little apprehensive about the ride sometimes.

I often look at what's ahead, but occasionally, I look back. I only look back for the purpose of seeing how far I've come, or how different it used to be. This time is no exception.

A former good friend of mine just gave birth to her first son. We were best friends in high school, but rarely speak now. Several years have passed since we last spoke, in fact. You shouldn't be surprised that I know intimate details of her life from the life-sucking entity known as Facebook.

Ahh, Facebook.  You have such a way about you when you remind me of my past. You have a natural talent for forcing me reminisce about things that I intentionally left so many years ago.  You have an oh-so-curteous way of making me miss it, but only for a few seconds.

This year has been so full of milestones.  I celebrated my child's first birthday.  I delighted in my 5 year wedding anniversary.  I partied like it was 1999, well... like it was 2000.... at my 10 year high school reunion.  And now, it's been ten years since I packed two bags and left my life far behind me for a new, improved version. 

I honestly don't remember saying goodbye.  I can't imagine how my friends must have felt when I disappeared suddenly one morning.  They all knew I was going away to college, but I never made a point to formally bid my farewell.  I wanted out so badly, I knew if I wasted all that breath on "We'll see each other again soon!" to all of those people, I'd regret it one day. 

Actually, I take all of that back.  I remember one.  This one, lonely goodbye was memorable because I knew I had to make it permanent.  How many of those do we ever commit to in a lifetime?  One?  Two?  How many times do we walk away and never come back?

I sat on the sofa and he sat in the computer chair.  We stared at each other with the seriousness and coldness of a new machete in a deep freeze.  The air exploded with the sounds of his voice.  "I guess you'll be back in four years, right?"  The silence that ensued lasted at least a millennium, perhaps a little longer.  When I brushed the dust of the tip of my nose, I could only shake my head.  I didn't like what I was about to say.  "I'm not coming back."  It boomed.  It shook the foundation of the house.  It made the hair on our arms stand up.  It peeled the paint off the walls.  It scared me.  Was he... confused?  Hurt?  Angry?  I couldn't tell.  I don't think he could either.

I hung on to that one for another year or so... but I eventually got to a point where I knew I had to let it go for good, before I ended up going back.

I couldn't go back.  I wanted a different life.

I tried to hang on to a few people, but the more I tried to hang on, the more I realized that my new adventure was in jeopardy of never existing.  I eventually deserted every single friend that I had from back home for the sake of my new life.  I can't blame any of them if they all hate me now.  I would hate me if I were them.   Some of them were very hard to turn around and walk away from.  Some were very easy. 

I didn't go back.  I have my new life and I love it.  It's perfect.  I ran away from my problems and all of those monkeys chasing after me and it worked.  My God, it worked.  There are no "what-ifs" and "I shoulda/woulda/couldas."  There are no regrets.  Not one. 

Nope.  Not one. 

Back to Facebook.  Since FB has such a great way of bring all of this back, I've been considering (you might want to sit down here...) breaking up with Facebook.  Right now, we are engaged in a trial seperation, which will last one week, and then we will reunite to discuss our options.  Let's face it, we all now know that I have no problem packing up and leaving to pursue something better.  I feel that Facebook is dragging me down and I don't like that.  We're not seeing eye-to-eye on quite a few things.

I will be sure to keep all of you updated on the situation.