i can't wait just like you can't wait / until we're out past familiar gates / those seven words shook the life back in / so let's just run 'til we lose our breath.

mona lisas.

Posted: Oct 7, 2017 | Posted by marcy | 0 comments

five years ago, today, my now ex-husband and i went to a wedding together. the only reason i even know this is because someone in silicon valley came up with this idea to create 'facebook memories' which is really just a cyber vault way of reminding you, in a completely unsolicited manner, that "oh right. that happened."

so yeah. we went to a wedding. we had been separated for exactly four months and five days.

after all, we were still the millers.

after all, we were still navigating through the greatest pain that either of us had ever experienced.

after all, we were still committed to remaining as friends.

after all, we didn't really know what the fuck we were doing.

so we went.

he wore a tuxedo and i wore a plum-colored dress and was told by a number of people about how skinny and great i looked.

i wasn't skinny and looking great because i had all the sudden taken up yoga and an eye-roll worthy diet consisting of kale salads and fruit smoothies. i was skinny because i was dead inside and hadn't eaten solid food in exactly four months and five days.

but i thanked those who were naive to my current reality and danced the night away anyway.

we had sex that night. and again a few months later.

ask me why, and i would give you the same response that i would give you if you asked me how many pennies it would take to fill the room i'm currently sitting in.

which is: "how the fuck should i know."

because i don't.

there's that overused and tirelessly cliche saying that goes along the lines of something about how certain people come into your life and quietly leave, while others will come into your life and leave tiny footprints on your heart and you are never the same again.


cliche, but truth.

five years later i wrestle with that cliche a little, as i sit on a pile of shit otherwise known as "hey thanks, twenty seventeen. you've been the year of loss and tears and i'm over it and also fuck you."

but it's also been the year of great gains and i need to remind myself of that, despite the fact that my eyes are wet and swollen today. and possibly again tomorrow.

this evening, i nestled up to a kitchen counter in a home i don't own, in a town i don't live in, across from a dear soul who genuinely cares about mine. over matching bowls of ramen, we discussed love and loss and the power of goodbyes. we talked about the cathartic act of writing, which i suppose is why i'm here now. revisiting this place far sooner than i ever anticipated. we talked about loving ourselves more than loving others and taking chances in spite of outstanding odds and mounting fears. we talked about this year. the year that took many things away from me, physically and otherwise. but also the same year that welcomed into my life invaluable lessons, irreplaceable people, life-altering experiences, and an amount of self discovery that in no way has done anything less than morph me into a better version of the person i was meant to be.

this was the year that i was reminded of my value. this year reminded me that i am better than what a select few people of the past had sometimes lead me to believe. reminded me that love is possible, and could begin to make it's way into my orbit again. it was the year that i walked through central park, holding his pinky with my forefinger, while realizing that there will be unplanned and unexpected moments in life when your soul aligns with someone else's at the just the right split second, and the entire universe makes sense again. even if it's just for that moment.

and even if it might have been temporary, it existed.

the wet and swollen eyes help me now understand that it was real.

the tiny footprints lay on my heart and i will likely never be the same again.

additionally, elton john was mistaken when he said that rose trees never grow in new york city.

they do.