Me Archives - Lynette Bishop Snell

I Can Let Go Now…

Administrator — Wed, 25 Jul 2007 23:32:45 +0000

If you do not know this song by Michael McDonald, I strongly recommend you go to itunes right now and download it. It is haunting melody with poignant words. I first heard it back in the early 1990s as the closing to the final episode of the series “China Beach.” The words struck me then, and they have never let go.

Recently, after my extended visit to Florida this summer, I came home and felt different. I was in a new place. This was “No Man’s Land.” I had let go of my past (all things Florida), mostly, but I had not yet embraced all things new (Indiana). I was faced with the options of jumping feet first into a new life here and getting involved and making new friends.

But I am scared.

I went to my therapist and told her, “I want to make new friends, but I’m terrified.” She said, “Well, of course you are afraid. As long as you hold on to your memories from Florida, you are safe and you won’t be hurt by opening yourself up to new memories. If you never make new friends, you won’t ever have to go through all the pain of saying goodbye again. It’s a way of holding onto the past and not moving into the future, or, even, living in the present.”

I looked at her and thought, “Uh-oh. She’s onto me.”

I mulled her words over for a couple days. Tonight, I sat down at my computer and this song, which I soon realized had been subtly running through my mind for most of the afternoon, popped to the forefront of my consciousness.

(Michael McDonald)
It was so right, it was so wrong
Almost at the same time
The pain and ache a heart can take
No one really knows

When the memories cling and keep you there
Till you no longer care
And you can let go now

It’s wrong for me to cling to you
Somehow I just needed time
From what was to be-it’s not like me
To hold somebody down

But I was tossed high by love
I almost never came down
Only to land here
Where love’s no longer found
Where I’m no longer bound
And I can let go now

I think, at last, I can start letting go. And while it’s terrifying, and a horrifyingly lonely prospect, I know it will not last forever.

Letting go is so hard to do, even when the very thing you are holding onto hurts like the dickens.

(I Can Let Go Now from the album “If That’s What It Takes” by Michael McDonald)

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“Don’t Be A Soccer Mom….”

Administrator — Mon, 28 Aug 2006 11:08:17 +0000

My brother’s words rang through my cell phone and echoed hollowly in my ears for a second.Â Then outrage swept up and replaced the echo.

“I’m NOT acting like a soccer mom.Â I am acting like a MOM!”Â Righteous indignation oozed out of every word.

I was watching my son play his very first soccer game on Saturday.Â He was wonderful, of course, and zigged and zagged through the field, dribbling the ball expertly.Â Until, that is, “The Incident.”

I was not aware of the exact nature of “The Incident” until after the game.Â I simply knew something had occurred.Â And whatever it was, it had royally ticked off my precious angel boy.Â He turned into “ornery not-so-angel” boy.Â He stood on the field.Â He ignored his coach’s repeated cries of, “TJ!Â Run down the field!Â Come on, buddy!”Â He ignored the pack of boys scurrying by.Â The penultimate moment, however, came when the ball (I am not exaggerating one iota) literally rolled up to him, over his shoe and rested next to his foot.Â He simply stood and stared at it, his arms across his chest, pout at full attention.

We all hollered and screamed and suddenly the gaggle of soccer boys hurtled up to him, swept by him and the ball was gone.Â TJ remained stolidly in his place.Â At that moment, I hollered, “Get in the game now!”Â To which my brother replied, “Don’t be a soccer mom.”

It was hard not to do that very thing.Â My husband almost had to restrain me from running out onto the field in the middle of the game, swooping up my son and taking him to a private location to “discuss” his behavior.Â He was in sore need of AA:Â Attitude Adjustment.Â Of course, that might have caused a scene (“Did you see that crazy, lunatic woman running across the field, hollering at her son?Â Poor kid…stuck with a real soccer mom.”), so I refrained.Â

Until we got to the car.

No Nintendo for the rest of the weekend (“Waaaahhhh”) and if appropriate behavior modification does not occur, no Nintendo for…well, FOREVER!Â

My husband, always the more calm, rational one, explained the importance of “team playing” and listening to the coach and cooperating even when seemingly unjustly accused of some misdeed.Â That happens frequently in sports, and as TJ loves to play sports, it’s an important lesson to learn and learn early.

Sigh.Â At least we got his attention.Â

I’m still wondering if the Soccer Mom is paying attention as well.

MOTHER’S DISCLAIMER: Please help me out. If you read any stories about my children and know me and my children, please don’t mention any of these stories to my kids or in front of my kids. They are easily embarrassed by these stories and although one day they will enjoy and appreciate them, I’m sure, I do not want them to feel foolish or less of a person because of them right now. Adults can appreciate the humor in these situations, but the kids, as yet cannot. I believe they are of an age where I will now have to ask their permission before publishing any stories, which may reduce the number of great tales to be shared, but it will certainly keep my kids’ self esteem in tact…at least for now.

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Hurricane ’06

Administrator — Sun, 27 Aug 2006 03:39:56 +0000

Here we go again…only this time I am watching from afar.Â

After the unlikely, and, at the time, unusually active hurricane season of 2004, the norm is not to be surprised by a hurricane, but rather to anticipate multiple hurricanes.Â I sit here and look at the map and projections of Ernesto, the latest storm, and I am amazed.

My amazement stems from the fact that I am not shocked, surprised, or any such emotions.Â In fact, I should feel nothing but relief.Â My recent move has taken me far out of hurricane-harm’s way.Â Instead, I feel the now familiar and newly usual emotions of fear, dread, resignation to the situation, and the first stirrings of planning:Â “where will we go, where will it go, what will we need, how long will we be without power this time,Â will it hit anyone but us?”Â

Orlando was in the cross-hairs of three hurricanes and one tropical storm between August and October in 2004.Â I think it was 1 hurricane about every 3 weeks that year, plus the whole “Crazy Ivan” thing (that one devastated the panhandle, went up through Georgia, out the Carolinas, did a loop and came back as a tropical storm and hit Orlando…just for good measure).Â

Last year we only had one brush…Wilma, at the end of the season and she merely graced us with lots of rain.Â Little or no wind.Â No fear of falling trees on houses.Â No fear of power outages.Â Just…more resignation.

But I guess what is truly amazing me is that here I sit, so far removed from it all, and still the impact of that first season is deep and far-reaching.Â I still shudder and slightly tremble from the uncertainty of it all.Â Post traumatic stress syndrome?Â Perhaps.Â And I am ashamed to admit that.Â I have never lost anything, anyone or been even slightly inconvenienced compared with those in south Florida, New Orleans, Alabama and Mississippi.Â I’m lucky.Â

But I’m still resigned.Â And not a little bit afraid.

Here we go again….

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Votes for Women

Administrator — Fri, 18 Aug 2006 17:06:39 +0000

In the course of researching the history of women’s suffrage in the United States for my latest project, I have come across amazing information.Â I have read pamphlets by women who dedicated their entire life to securing a woman’s legal right to vote.Â And I have read the words of women who thought voting foolish, frightening and dangerous, and spoke out accordingly in their own attempts to staunch the tide.Â I am grateful the latter were unsuccessful.Â

So many women were instrumental in this process, especially in the early 1900s.Â Besides Susan B. Anthony, there was Carrie Chapman Catt, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and Ida Husted Harper, an Indiana woman who bucked all convention, and her husband’s wishes, by becoming a newspaper correspondent.Â Many, many, many thousand others whose names may never have been written down by anyone also devoted their time to the cause.Â

One group, called the “Silent Sentinels” set up a perpetual protest in front of the White House in 1917 and did not stop for eighteen months until at last, President Woodrow Wilson publicly supported the issue and it was at last put before Congress.

These women went against everything society told them was true, proper and correct.Â And they did it willingly.

Ida Husted Harper helped organize Indiana’s state women’s suffrage society.Â Eventually, her skill in dealing with public relations and the press, captured Susan B. Anthony’s attention.Â At Mrs. Anthony’s request, Mrs. Harper then became the official reporter and historian for the National American Woman Suffrage Association.

Mrs. Harper eventually went on to pen a very large work chronicling the life and times of Susan B. Anthony, which resulted in a six volume publication and included some contributions from Susan B. herself.Â

The more I researched and drilled down in various online libraries, the more awed I became.Â At one point, I discovered this picture:

Look closely at this woman.Â She is literally standing in a sea of men.Â

In New York.Â On Wall Street.Â Speaking for all the world to hear.Â Talk about vulnerability!Â She doesn’t look frightened to me, however.Â No.Â She looks passionate, empowered and ready to do battle with every man there, if need be.

As the fight for women’s suffrage reached its apex, a bill was introduced to congress, appropriately named “The Anthony Bill.”Â it took some time, but at last, women were successful.Â The fight did not begin in just the first two decades of the 20th century.Â It began over a hundred years earlier when American women were facing issues never before faced by any modern woman of the day.Â And unrest that probably had sat in the chest of every woman since the beginning of time began to fester and build and grow, until no longer could women deny the fact that their “unalienable rights” were, in fact, being abused.

I have developed a great new respect for these women and their long, arduous battle.Â For without their sacrifices, without their dedication and true grit, I would likely be unable to sit here and freely publish any words I wished and put my name, my female name, next to them.

So I leave you with this picture, to mark a day most momentous in the history of American womankind.Â And I applaud women everywhere who stand up for themselves and fight persecution and true oppression.

Note:Â I found these photos at the following website, which has a fantastic collection of other suffrage-related photographs and document copies.Â http://www.loc.gov/rr/print/list/076_vfw.html#scenes

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What Have You Done For Me Lately?

Administrator — Thu, 17 Aug 2006 11:00:04 +0000

Apparently, I am failing the masses (ahem) who read my blog daily.Â They are hanging on my words as if they are drips of nourishing honey.Â

Or…

I am just not blogging like I should.Â

But as I have already stated in a previous blog (see “Where Does The Time Go?”), I am actually busy.Â Working, editing, writing, creating.Â Oh, and getting my kids on their very first school bus ride to their first day at a new school, entertaining my in-laws for two weeks, my parents for two weeks and preparing for my brother (who is coming in two weeks) and my sister-in-law who will be here the week before I leave for Dallas and the ACFW conference.Â Did I mention Bunco in there anywhere?Â And soccer practice and cheerleading practice?Â I’m tired just thinking about all I have to do.

And I still want to write a 45,000 word novel by the time I get to Dallas.Â So far, my word count is at 552.Â

In the midst of all this, I had the very great pleasure to attend my local Romance Writers of America chapter’s monthly meeting last weekend.Â Colleen Coble, author of the Rock Harbor Series, the Aloha Series and many other books (I believe her next release makes it number 30), was the guest speaker.Â She was entertaining, informative and exceedingly friendly.

She offered a long list of suggestions for how to focus your writing in the proper direction.Â My favorite quote from her was, “write what you are passionate about.Â Me?Â I just enjoy killing people!”Â Can you guess what she writes?

I had the chance to chat with her outside the meeting and she informed me that her best friend is none other than Kristen Billerbeck who I have been hoping to meet.Â Colleen told me that she and Kristen, along with two other authors, have a blog they write together and have a great time doing it.Â It made me wonder if that is something I should propose to Rita (my critique partner).

Regardless, Colleen graciously offered to introduce me to Kristen Billerbeck at the conference in Dallas in September, and told me to find Colleen so she could do just that.Â I plan to take her up on the offer.Â As it happens, I am taking a course at the conference taught by Colleen, Kristen and the two authors with whom they blog.Â

Enough for today…kids need to get up, parents need to be entertained, and books need to be written.

That’s all I can do for anyone today.

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Mourning

Administrator — Sat, 12 Aug 2006 19:46:54 +0000

No one ever wants to hear bad news.Â Ever.Â In fact, I believe some people (I would be one of them) live their lives with great precision just to avoid hearing bad news.Â Not always, though, are they (me) successful.

Today I learned sad news about a friend’s marriage.Â It ripped out my gut.Â My heart is aching and tears threaten.Â And that’s just what I’m going through.Â What about her?

I sit here, pondering my own marriage.Â Is my relationship strong?Â Do my husband & I talk enough?Â Do we talk enough about the right things?Â What’s out there right now between us that doesn’t have a name yet, or that we maybe are not even aware of?Â It unsettles me.Â

I question everything.Â I look at him differently.Â I wonder, “is there something he’s not telling me?”

I hate bad news.Â

I mourn for my friend.Â For her, life will never, ever be the same.Â Fifteen year old memories of my sister’s similar experience are now shockingly new and fresh.Â The person my sister is today most assuredly is not the person she would have been had her marriage remained in tact.Â For my sister, rebirth came through fire.Â The ashes smoldered for years, and even now, all these years later, occasionally flare up and make life miserable again for a while.Â I see my friend standing at the precipice to that rebirth, and I mourn for her.

Instead of questioning my marriage, I am going to run to my husband and lock my arms around his slightly pudgy waist, all the while telling him how much I adore him.Â

And then I will pray, and mourn some more, for my friend.

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Where does the time go?

Administrator — Wed, 09 Aug 2006 21:23:40 +0000

It cannot be almost a month since my last post…it simply cannot!Â Unfortunately, the calendar does not lie.Â But, I am happy to report, I have not been idle.

I have been writing!

Why? You may ask.Â Because it is that time of year:Â conference time!Â I recently broached the subject of the Glorieta Christian Writer’s Conference with Rita, my writing partner.Â She mentioned a different conference in Dallas in September.Â The American Christian Fiction Writers Conference.Â Together, we researched both conferences and decided this conference might be better suited to our fledgling writers’ needs.Â So after a couple weeks of deliberation, we agreed to take the plunge.

All of this meant that I had to pull my writing projects out of the dungeon of neglect and dust them off.Â They needed work, most especially my “Tale of Lillian Foster,” which has received a new title (for now at least) of Now and Then.Â One of the things I learned from my trek out west to Glorieta last year was that I needed to rework my story.Â I had too much backstory ahead of my true story line.Â And as one well respected agent put it, â€œYou have identified a major flaw and corrected it.Â You can hardly take anything better than that away from this conference.â€

Well, I had identified it.Â I had not corrected it.Â I avoided it, took a break, and then we decided to move.Â I thought of little else besides moving for many months.Â Oh, occasionally Lillian and her tale would pop into my mind.Â Guiltily, however, I would always tamp it down.Â I had no time for thoughts of anything save getting through a move and all it entailed.Â

Now, ten months have passed.Â I have moved, I have activities to keep the children occupied, and I am going to the conference in September.Â No more excuses!Â

I’ve been working diligently on Lillian/Now & Then, getting edits from Rita and desperately trying to make sense of this creature I call a manuscript.Â I vary between elation at my finely honed skill and desolation at the pure drivel I have written.Â Isn’t this what deadlines do?Â They inspire the best of us (and the not so best, I suppose) to willingly hop on that roller coaster ride toward completion and then complain vociferously when all does not go as we planned.

Regardless of what complaint comes out of me, depending on the time of day, I am committed to having some sort of proposal completed before September 21.Â And not just because I purchased a paid critique of my work.Â But also because I am committed to finishing this project.Â

In the meantime, if I’m not blogging, be assured that I am writing.Â And preparing.Â And stressing.Â And freaking out.Â Oh, and dousing all my worries with a liberal dose of Handel’s ice cream.

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Shadows of the Past

Administrator — Sat, 08 Jul 2006 17:21:09 +0000

My return to Indiana has provided many unexpected rewards.Â First, moving into a house near Lou.Â That was mind-boggling enough.Â Yesterday, I experienced yet another twist to my arrival:Â a reunion with 2 of my 3 college roommates.Â

I had not seen either of these women in many years.Â One, Jill,Â I have not seen in almost 12 years.Â I had never seen her children, she has never met my husband or seen my children.Â The other, Dana, I saw once probably 7 or 8 years ago when I lived in Chicago (where she still lives).Â She has never seen my children either.

In all those years with marriages, children, careers…life in general, we have all changed.Â But as we sat in my kitchen with 5 children running screaming around us, it seemed as if time had stopped and we were still roommates in college.Â The noisy beasts circling our encampment were just peripheral details.Â We revisited every room in our old house, reminding each other of a duty roster, pilfered food products, and general merriment as we lived through that year in college.Â For Jill and me, it was our senior year.Â For Dana and Allison (the only one missing yesterday), it was their Junior year.Â

Yesterday, we dragged out the obligatory yearbook and photo albums and laughed hysterically throughout the afternoon, shooing the children away so we could peruse the shadows of our pasts without interruption.Â

For me, they were just that:Â shadows.Â My life has taken such a course that the only interaction I have with people from college is via the occasional email and traded Christmas cards.Â Living in Boston, DC, Atlanta and Florida tends to remove one from that frequent exposure which comes from living close to your alma mater in Indiana.Â

As I sat with Jill and Dana turning the pages of the photo albums, it startled me how much I did, in fact, remember.Â A slight jogging of the mind and the shadows sprang to life, taking form, depth and color.Â And personality.Â I found it fascinating that all the details I thought I had forgotten, were simply hidden, in the shadows so to speak, waiting to be bidden and called out.

Whereas before I had felt simply a passerby in my tenure at this particular college, now I remembered I was a part of it.Â A living, breathing part of campus life, with friends, classes, professors (which includes he who must not be named), and experiences.Â Suddenly I remembered a part of my life, long gone but now not so far away.

I wondered, what other parts of my life in my recent past might one day be relegated to the shadows of my mind, taking the place of distant memories who now rest in the light of my mind?Â

The thing about shadows–they always dance and move around, flitting from one place to another as one’s position changes.Â I wonder what shadows of the past I will unearth tomorrow…

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The Road Not Taken…

Administrator — Tue, 04 Jul 2006 03:12:04 +0000

I just never tire of reading this poem…a good reminder to keep all options open and to make your choices boldly…circumstances be damned…or welcomed!

But don’t you just wonder, “And that has made all the difference”… good difference or bad?Â I am quite curious to know and yet, inside I think the answer rests:Â to each his own path lies and to each, the difference is clear.

Read, enjoy, and make your own choice.

Robert Frost (1874â€“1963)

The Road Not Taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; Â

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, Â Â

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. Â Â Â

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and Iâ€”
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. Â Â

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NOW it’s weird…

Administrator — Tue, 20 Jun 2006 02:56:05 +0000

15 years ago, I graduated from college.Â In a complete departure from everything I had ever known, I moved to Boston to live with my sister.Â Shortly after my arrival, I got a job and met a girl named Caroline.Â We had an instant bond for some strange reason.Â About the only thing we had in common was the color of our hair.Â She was Catholic, I was protestant.Â She lived in the northeast and I, the very different midwest.Â Her closest sibling was 18 years older than she, while mine was my roommate, onlyÂ 5 years my senior.Â We were polar opposites in many ways, but for some reason, we became inseparable.

One year after moving to Boston, my sister got transfered to Los Angeles and I found myself on a precipice, staring out at the rest of my life.Â I knew that after only one year in Boston, my life would never be the same.Â For many reasons, which I will never go into here, I was not the same naive, innocent girl who moved to Boston from Indiana twelve short months before.Â Then Caroline changed everything.Â She moved to Washington, D.C.

I was lonely after she moved, but felt that I was simply standing off stage, waiting for the next act in my life to unfold.Â And I was not disappointed.Â Caroline soon called me and suggested I move to D.C. and we’d get an apartment together.Â I took the shuttle to D.C. frequently in the months after she left, just to try D.C. on for size.Â I liked what I saw.

I moved in June of 1992 into the apartment Caroline had found for us.Â We lived in Roslyn, Virginia, just down the street from the Metro stop, the Quarterdeck Restaurant (which we frequented), and just across the Potomac from one of the world’s most powerful cities.Â

I took a temporary job and ended up filling in at a company called AES.Â Within a few hours of the temp job I knew I wanted to become a permanent employee.Â It took a while, but eventually I got a job there and was in heaven.Â I thrived, even though I was working under my potential.

Two years and a horrible relationship later, I decided D.C. had had enough of my soul and I packed up and moved out with my tail between my legs…back home to live with mom and dad.Â Certainly not the triumphant return I had always dreamed of.Â But it was a safe haven…a place for me to lick my wounds from the devastation of my shattered heart and try to heal and move on.Â

Six months after moving home, I got a phone call from a former co-worker in D.C.Â The company had opened an office in Atlanta and was looking for someone with my qualifications.Â Ready at this point to move on (translation, out of mom & dad’s house and back into my own), I quickly applied for and got the job.Â I started my new job with AES Power in Atlanta on January 3, 1995.

My boss was a man named Lou.Â He was just a couple years older than I and we hit it off right away.Â He was professional but fun and easy to work for.Â I also met a woman named Rita who was an instant friend.Â For three weeks it seemed as if all was right in my world.Â Then things took a turn I could never have anticipated.Â The president of our company sat us all down and announced that due to a lack of success in the company’s progress, there was either going to be a massive reduction in work force or the office was going to shut down completely.

I wondered aloud, who was going to pay for the lease I had just signed?Â Who was going to help me find a new job in a city where I knew no one and had no connections except for the ones in front of me.Â And clearly they were not ones I should attempt to utilize.

After a few weeks of pandering about and upheavals, one by one, the upper management began to fall away.Â The future of the company was definitely uncertain, but I was not about to jump ship so soon after arrival.Â I held on with all my might and before I knew what was happening, there were only three employees remaining:Â Lou, Rita and me.Â

I’m still not certain how or why it was just the 3 of us that survived, except that God had every intention of the 3 of us spending the next six months in each other’s company day in and day out.Â After the dust settled, and the upper management had moved out, I took over the Vice President’s office while Rita took the President’s place.Â Our offices overlooked downtown Atlanta from the penthouse office space of the premier office building in Buckhead, just north of downtown.Â It was a sweet set up.Â Gorgeous views, cushy office space, and little work to do.Â Plus, we got paid for it!

All these years later, in this post-Enron era, we laugh and say, “Hey!Â Enron stole the idea from us!Â We imploded first!”Â Lots of money was spent in an attempt to get the company off the ground and not as much effort, it seemed, went into getting the actual business in the door.Â Hence, the pseudo-implosion.Â But I stray off-track.

So for six months, Lou, Rita & I did little else than goof off. Oh, occasionally, there was random work to be done, but it rarely occupied more than a day at a time.Â In the meantime, we did whatever was necessary to pass the time.Â The things we did ranged from board games, computer games, and hide and seek, to trips to the mall, and much more.Â No one I met could believe it was real.Â And still, we got paid.Â We were all just waiting…waiting for the last brick to fall.Â

Before this happened, Lou’s wife gave birth to his second child, a daughter.Â I got the privilege of holding Lou’s daughter when she was a mere 8 hours old at the hospital.Â Rita and I went to visit him, feeling lost and forlorn without his goofball presence in our daily lives at work.Â This was one of the brightest spots in the six months we worked together.Â But finally, the last brick did fall and by July, I was out of a job and looking for new work.Â

By then I had met my future husband and we were well on our way to marriage.Â He was living in Chicago and I knew I would end up there.Â So in August of 1996, I moved to Chicago to marry my sweetheart.

I saw Rita once in Chicago and we kept in touch via email and letters, and our friendship continued to grow.Â I also kept in touch with Lou but he was now a father and our lives took very divergent paths.

In October of 1998, my husband & I moved to Florida and started our own family.Â In 1999, I saw Lou for the first time since I had moved from Atlanta, three years before.Â His son was 5 and his daughter, the one I had held on her birth day, was now 4.Â I had just adopted two children and was reeling from the impact of motherhood.Â Our visit was brief and quite unsatisfying.Â After that visit, we lost touch for a few years until one day I got a phone call out of the blue and it was Lou.

We talked and laughed as if the years had not passed and we were back in that ridiculous work setting all those years ago.Â So our friendship was renewed.Â At this point, Lou had moved to Indiana and, remarkably, was still working for AES.Â We exchanged Christmas cards for several years after this.

Why, in the world, am I laying down my entire life’s story here?Â Because when I moved over a week ago, it was to house within walking distance of Lou’s house.Â I had not seen him since 1999…7 years had passed!Â It was so bizarre and yet so stinking cool to see him after all those years.Â And now, he’s my neighbor!

We have been to a couple social gatherings with Lou and his wife, and then his daughter, the one I held, invited my daughter to her birthday party…she is now ELEVEN!Â Anyway, as I sat on the front porch the other night with Lou, drinking wine, watching our respective daughters play together, Lou looked at me and said, “Ok. NOW it’s weird.”

And he’s right.Â Who would have ever thought all those years ago…eleven and a half, to be precise, that I would be living so close to Lou.Â Rita and I have been very close all these years.Â Her husband worked with my husband for a brief stint.Â We attended the same church for years.Â We celebrated New Year’s Eve together every year.Â We even flew to Dallas one year after she and her husband moved there.Â The ironic thing is that Rita and her husband moved back to Florida in January.Â We moved out of Florida in June.Â Our paths diverge once again.

And now it seems it’s Lou’s turn to be my neighbor.Â I have no idea what shape our friendship will take in this new setting.Â I know we are both vastly different individuals than we were almost twelve years ago.Â I think we are still sort of getting to know each other again.Â We only knew each other in that one capacity and our interactions afterwards were brief and more reminiscent than anything.Â Now, we must decide, do we like each other enough to be friends?Â I find myself getting to know his wife in a way I never really knew before.Â Nothing is the same.Â Everything is different.Â

Yes, it’s weird.Â But it’s LOU!Â How cool is that?

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