A Boy and His Dog

Where are Chuck and Leo?  Every morning,  I set out with the dogs hoping the stars will align to allow me a brief encounter with the boy and his dog.  But, recently, no luck.  So, in their absence I have daydreamed of coffee dates and trips to the dog park.  We’ve had a lot of fun together so far!

This morning, with my anticipation at an all time high, my dogs and I headed out.  Clove wanted to stop often to smell bushes and rocks but I kept him moving.   No Clove, let's go…we might run into him…

With a quick snap of the leash, Clove was back on track…until I felt him pulling ever so slightly forward.  I released my gaze from him and looked up.  And, there in the distance, stood Chuck and Leo.  A huge smile was plastered to my face.  I lowered my chin to my chest so I didn’t look like a pile of teeth on my approach.  At about 50 yards out, Clove’s increased panting was indication that I had picked up the pace.   In no time, I closed the distance and stood face to face with the duo.

“Chuck and Leo….Right?!!?”  I knew I was right but I didn’t want to sound too arrogant like I was some master of newly learned names or something.

“Cleo, actually.  With a C…her full name is Cleopatra.”

Well shit...I got that totally wrong.

“Leo with a C.  Cleo.  Ccccleo.  Got it….how are you two doing today?”

“Kind of tired, actually”, Chuck said.  “I stayed up late last night - we had some plans to draw up and we burned the midnight oil doing so.”

I asked what he did for work and he told me he's an architect.  And, just like that he was even more handsome than before.  There’s just something about male architects…with their swanky desks and super cool angled rulers; putting on paper something that will eventually be tangible and a part of people’s stories for years to come.  

“That’s really amazing..”, I said, keenly aware of deliberately nodding my head into the momentary silence in awe over his chosen career.  After the bobble head cessation, I asked how long he’s worked as an architect, to which he answered “Twenty years”.  

Excellent.  He’s not in his 30’s like I imagined.

Our conversation revealed that he's 45 years old and I admitted to turning 50 this year.  "Wow!  You look great", he exclaimed causing me some embarrassment.  After an awkward stall, he asked for the names of my dogs.

Still blushing, I told him the names and a cute smirk swept across Chuck's face.  He liked the spice-themed names.  There was no denying it.

Me:  (giggling a bit) “Yeah, I never name my pets people names…”

Chuck:  “I love their names!  My step daughter named Cleo.”

Did he just say “step daughter?”

The overgrown smile I had been wearing slowly faded so that just the corners of my mouth slightly turned up.  “…aww, that’s really sweet”, I managed to reply.

“Erm, so what does your wife do?”, I asked, in hopes of receiving an answer that sounded something like “Oh, no…I’m not married but I’m like a dad to my Ex’s daughter still.”

But that’s not what he said.  He said she works at a dry cleaners in the Sunny Slope area.  Feeling as if my heart deflated, I mustered up an inquiry as to where a dry cleaner is around our neighborhood given the bag of clothing I’ve had hanging on a doorknob since I lived at the Bonanza house. 

The conversation continued for just a few more minutes.   As he was talking, I couldn’t help but recall all the times I knew without a doubt that he purposely waited for the three of us to catch up to him.  Even still, the future I envisioned at the coffee shop and dog park dissolved into thin air.  

I had gotten so much more wrong than just their names.

With an exchange of goodbye’s and well wishes for the day ahead, Cinnamon, Clove and I made our way back home, my steps heavier with the realization that Chuck, and Leo with C, are taken.

But, here's the thing.  The fact that I was even contemplating a relationship is really quite promising.  After all that’s happened, it's easy to be closed off to the idea.   

But, a boy and his dog showed me that I'm open. I have healed and grown and I'm thankful to them for this realization. 

I'm still kinda bummed it wasn't them but at least this gives me some more time.... to learn how to cook a steak on the stove without setting off my fire alarm.

A Fond Farewell

Today marks the closing date on the Bonanza house.  But, today holds far more significance than a mere real estate transaction.  

I consider it a final farewell to the past two years of my life.  

In the beginning, I clung hard to Aaron even though he was gone.  And, I clung to my 14th St house though I knew I'd let it go given what happened there.  

When I got into my Bonanza house, it felt comforting to lay my head on my pillow at night in a room where exactly zero people had violently perished.  It was a clean slate.  But, as many of you know, I was unhappy there.  It turns out, I’m not okay living in a cookie cutter subdivision complete with cluster mail boxes and exuberant HOA fees (something I accepted at first but which later became a source of bitterness and regret).  The land of the Moms With Strollers was isolating and I grew weary of the community emails boasting over and over the phrase “Fun Family Event!”.  Even the adult comedy night to which I was really looking forward turned into a “kid friendly event” after the backlash in Vanilla-ville.  

Thanks Moms With Strollers!

Norterra is beautiful but it’s not a place to be single.  It’s also not an area entrenched with any sort of culture, trendiness or fun.  

The unsettledness and anger I felt over my lot in life served me well in that it prompted me to purge the past.   One day, I marched through the Bonanza house collecting every thing that reminded me of Aaron (our favorite picture of us from the cabin, a heart shaped rock he found for me on a dog walk…the glass blown heart with his ashes swirled inside).  Without pause, I breezed through the house, the memorabilia in hand, and headed straight out into the garage where I swiftly stored the items in my memory box.  They still remain there today; nothing made entry inside the new house.   It’s not that I’m trying to forget him.  

How could I...there are some things my memory just refuses to erase.

It’s just…I’m done and moving on.   

So, that was then.  

Today, my heart is full.  I feel whole.  It took two messy and financially crazy years but I'm officially back on track.   Am I in the financial position I was in before June 2016?  No.  But, considering everything that has happened, I am not that far off.  I’m smarter than I look.  😎. I have landed firmly on my two feet.  Squarely, steadily, unwaveringly.   

In two years, I witnessed Aaron’s suicide, sold my 14th St. house, stopped running my nutritional supplement business, bought the Bonanza house, worked as an intern as a Chocolatier, sold my Tundra which Aaron drove for his work, bought a new car and lost my best friend who passed on the way home from our motorcycle ride.  Additionally, I helped found an all-women's motorcycle group, got hired on as a professor for NAU, thought often of restarting my nutritional business, sold the cabin where Aaron’s ashes are spread, hunted for four months for my dream home and purchased said dream home.  And, today I sell the Bonanza house which I felt forced to move into in the first place.   It’s a lot.  I wonder sometimes how I’m still standing.

I forgave Aaron once, very early on, for the “what”, “where” and “how” things happened but the aftermath spurred a fury that crushed any forgiveness I had previously extended.   And, I lacked the grace to forgive again. 

Today not only marks the closing on the Bonanza house but on an extraordinarily tumultuous chapter in my life.  I know I can’t erase it.  I know it’ll always be a part of who I am.   But I am officially out from underneath it.   For the first time in two years, I am happy.  I am content.  I am grateful. 

Two days from now, the 23rd, marks the two year anniversary of Aaron’s passing.  Just the other day, I opened my Timehop app - something I rarely did over the past year so as not to be assaulted by the memories.   Upon opening it, I realized it fell on the day I took what would be the last video of Aaron - we were on our way back down the mountain from the cabin and he was singing to the radio.  I watched that video hundreds of times a day after Aaron took his life.  But, it has been at least 18 straight months since I've seen it.  

I watched the video in its entirety, well aware of the smile that had formed on my face.  At the conclusion, I clicked out of the application and placed my phone on the table at which I was seated; it sits outside on the patio just underneath the kitchen window.  I took a pause and simply soaked in the view from my new backyard; the green grass, full sized trees, birds chirping and singing a song; Clove rolling in the grass and Cinnamon sitting perfectly as if posing for a photographer that only she can see.  It was perfect.  

So, with that....I forgive you (again), Aaron.  I bid you farewell.  I know you’re at peace, that you're happy and you're dancing in the moonlight.

I am too.