The Aftermath and a Gallery Date

Hey lovelies!

Sometimes I wonder if anyone’s actually reading this blog. I could ask Abby to see the traffic stats — but not sure what I would do if I actually knew the truth.

Anyways….

The day after the Great Text Swap started pretty rad.

My phone buzzed with an interesting email – an invitation to be a guest speaker on a popular podcast, which will remain nameless for now.

But exciting stuff!

I’m awaiting more details, buy my mind is already buzzing with possibilities. My writing job is chugging along just fine, story assignments piled up but that’s how I like it – busy and bustling.

Now, about that art gallery date with Anna.

It was a peculiar installation show – stark, black and white photographs taped all over the stark white walls of the gallery. Not my normal thing – still deciding if I liked it or not.

The photos were a tad creepy – with stories of pain, joy, and offbeat life moments. As we walked around the gallery, Anna admitted her soreness from our yoga escapade. I could see her wincing, even as she tried to admire the photos.

With a stroke of adventurous spirit (and a desire to bring Anna some relief), I found us a secluded corner of the gallery.

I laid our jackets out on the floor, and right in the gallery, sitting on our jackets, I massaged Anna’s aching legs. Sure, a few eyebrows were raised by other gallery-goers, but in that moment, it was just the two of us, living for each other, finding comfort and support. Who cares if our phones were full of unanswered texts from mom and dad, wondering how we could possibly skip Thanksgiving?

Anna’s laugh echoed in the quiet gallery as I accidentally tickled her, a light note amid the silence typical of these exhibitions. It felt good seeing her laugh – it was like a reminder that no matter the fallout of our choices, we’d have these moments of laughter and understanding to hold onto.

She seemed even more relieved than me. This was going to be her first Thanksgiving after the divorce — the first Thanksgiving in five years that she wouldn’t be attending with her ‘loving’ husband. Sometimes I wonder how she keeps it together.

Her legs were definitely tight and probably sore from the yoga the night before, but to me it was nice to connect hands-on this way. That kitchen moment at Halloween never really was spoken about. But now we were sitting in public, me rubbing her bare, smooth legs. I even told her, “good thing you wore a skirt tonight”, mimicking something a high-school player would say to a back-seat date. Anna giggled even louder.

When we were done with the leg massage and show, and ready to leave, it felt a million years since the night before.

The texts had been sent, the dice had been rolled, and come what may, we knew we had each other to lean on.

K.