I should be happy...

I went to see him, Christmas Eve. I wasn't sure I would, I didn't tell him I was coming, and I almost didn't go. But I really wanted to see him. And I knew he'd be home, because he had all the kids for the entire weekend, and his car is too small to fit all of them. I was already halfway there, up visiting family, so, it was less daunting to drive just over an hour instead of just over two hours.

After the huge fight we'd been having earlier in the week, I kept thinking that I might have come off better, with more of a chance, if I'd been to see him at least once. If he'd had to be confronted with me, in the flesh, right there in front of him, in his own home. That was part of it. Because I know seeing me changes things. Which was, perhaps, a little unfair.

I nearly turned around, so many times. But I wanted to see him.

When I got there, I knew it was his house before I'd seen the number. I drove past, turned around, came back, and parked. I didn't know he was in the front room, and had seen me pull up. I wish I'd parked across the street instead.

I text him, "did you get your package?", because I'd mailed his present a few days before, when we were fighting, because I was sure I wasn't going to see him. We'd made up since, for the most part, but, still. I was so nervous.

A few texts later, he's figured it out, and is asking me to come in. I've never had such a hard time walking up to someones door. It was all I could do to keep walking towards the house. I just wanted to run away.

I'm so nervous, I can't even open the door. I just stand there. He has to practically pull me inside. And all the kids are there, in the front room. I almost left right then, having only been there for a minute. I couldn't think why I'd thought it would be a good idea.

I'm too nervous to sit down, to even take off my coat. I can't look at him, or the kids, or at anything but my own shoes.

He can see this, but doesn't know why. He wonders if maybe I had something important to say, if I'd driven all that way just to visit, or...? So he says, "let me show you the house," and drags me off to the kitchen. I still have my coat on, and I keep wrapping it tightly around me. Like I want to hide. Which, I think, I do.

It's an old house. Full of awkward angles and tiny rooms and added-in spaces. A tiny spiral staircase leads upstairs.

We stand and talk, for far too long, in his tiny hallway. We talk, but, I don't know what to say. I satisfy his curiosity on a certain point, and natter on about the past, the old journal entries I'd been reading the night before. We talk about everything: movies, kids, his marriage, why he's not ready to change certain things about his life just yet.

About and hour and a half in, (I know. I wasn't going to stay. We always could just talk...) I realize, I've reached my limit. I've been standing there in that hallway, talking, listening, looking at him, and all of a sudden, I realize I can't just look at him any more. I want to be all tangled up, not knowing whose legs are whose, but, in my head, we're still dressed. I just want to be that close to him, and I can't just stand there anymore, not touching him at all. I say it's time for me to go. That not touching him is more than I can take. It's too much. (Probably more than he wanted to know, but, I can't help it, I always tell him what I'm thinking.)

He nods, asks if it's okay if he gives me a hug. It's a good hug, but, somehow, I'm still unsettled.

He walks me out to the porch, says goodbye. His daughters are giggling at us from the front room, though there is nothing to giggle at. There is at least a foot of space between us.

On the way home, I talk to my friend, she asks if I'm glad I went. I think, maybe, but...I don't know. Then she makes me promise that I won't apologize to him for coming up like that, with no warning.

I pick up my boys (they went to a movie with cousins), and drive home. I still have to bring in the tree, light it, decorate. Everything is still in the attic, and it's after midnight before I'm home.

I think, after that visit, I should be walking around like Keri Russell in Waitress, right after she realizes what he meant when he said, "I wish it were Friday". But, I'm not. I'm just confused, unsettled.

Hours later, amidst the frustrations of not having enough lights, ornament hooks gone missing, and just a general lack of Christmas feeling, I realize what it is. Or, at least, what it could be.

Despite the last 10 years of my life, having felt quite happy and content with life as it is, being single, not really dating, but being okay with that, all of a sudden, almost without warning, I'm just...lonely. I don't want to be alone anymore. And it's more like that scene where he comes to see her, at home, and she's just sad, and he comes in and just holds her, for 20 minutes. And right after that, she realizes that what she really likes about him, why she can't get enough of him: they talk, and he listens, and what she says matters to him.

And that's what I miss. Have been missing, for so long. I need that closeness of conversation. I want that best friend, always there.

I used to say, after ex2 left, that the worst part about divorce was not being allowed to love someone. Not being allowed to give to someone. I still think it's true.

So, I'm sad. And I don't want to talk to him. Kind of difficult to make that point when he's not talking to me, either, but, still.

And I thought that I missed him, but, I don't. I'm sorry he's gone. I'm sorry I messed things up. I hope he comes back, when he's ready. If that ever happens. I'm sorry I couldn't be his friend. I'm sad that he is still looking at me like I'm 17 and he's running away. I'm sad that he doesn't love me. Or at least, that love isn't enough.