Last night was a bad night.
It was a good night. I went out to the theatre and dinner with my mom. It has been several months since she and I have gone out for a show, just the two of us.
As I was falling asleep, though, it became a bad night. You were not there.
Did I ever tell you this one story? When I was a freshman in college, home for Christmas, I woke up one morning utterly confused. You were not there. I awoke in my parents' house with the same silver band I have had for eight years, bewildered as to why you were not next to me in bed. It took only a few minutes for me to remember that I was almost nineteen and that I had never been on a date.
Whatever I dreamed had felt so real that waking up single and living with my parents was disorienting. And yet, I could not remember what you looked like, let alone the name I wanted to call out down the hall.
Last night was bad for precisely the same reason. I remember very little, except that I went up on my tiptoes to kiss you after you walked in the door. You removed your jacket and I can remember the feel of you putting your arms around my waist. It was only a moment, a mere flash. I woke up feeling alone for a split second until I remembered that last night had not, in fact, happened.
And yet, now a week away from being twenty-three, some how, that realization twinges more than it did five years ago. A lot has changed in those five years. I graduated from university last month. I am searching for jobs, spread between Colorado Springs and New York City. All but four of my closest girlfriends are married or getting married. And the first wave of pregnancy announcements have started in. It is not that I am not happy for them. Because I am. It is not that I do not enjoy being single. Because I do as well. It enables a flexibility most of my friends do not have. I can make a decision solely for myself when it comes about where I want to live and work.
It is as my mom put it two weeks ago: I am feeling a little left out.
I love my married friends.
I love my single girlfriends.
And yes, I love the men in my life too: the husband and single guys. They all treat me amazingly well.
I just had to tell someone who might, perhaps, understand how it feels to be surrounded by couples.
I wanted you to know that I have moments where I wish you were here now.
Yet, I also wanted you to know that such a moment is something I am more than willing to wait on.
I do not know if you ever think about this. Maybe you do not think about it as much as I have.
Planning weddings for friends and working in bridal puts it at a forefront in my life.
I do not despair. I do not snap under impatience.
I have waited (nearly) twenty-three years for you.
And glimpses like the one from last night or from five years ago, have reassured me that God is in control.
While I am pressed, I am not crushed.