You know something is up when you are crying so hard listening to Snow Patrol that you can't get out of the car and buy groceries. Oh and then you accidentally beep the horn as you're stuggling to whipe your eyes.
Wow. Hard to say what triggered it, but it might have something to do with SR's very emotional blog post. And then Olga's response, asking if SR and I still stared lovingly into each other's eyes like in the old days.
Travel back in time with me for a moment. My life has been in many ways a string of incomplete successes. I got grant to travel to France and write a book about the small town Lectoure when I was 20. I wrote the book (in French) and only let two people read it, never translated it and never had it published. When I was 22, I got a fully payed position at Harvard medical school to do dementia research. I did the research, but never continued it as I had planned and never published anything. At 26, I got married (to a different guy) and then when I met SR (at 27) I said good-bye to my first husband. I said I was sorry to husband #1, but he knew I wasn't and I haven't talked to him or his family since. But during everything, I had running. It was my red thread. I don't know if there is a saying in English equal to the Danish "red thread" but it is something that is a constant and stays with you in life. Whenever I needed security, I had my red thread, running.
But then, when you fall in love, you don't need security anymore, it's just always there. And it just so happened that running had been a red thread for both SR and me and that we could enjoy even more together, not as a security blanket, but as a real joy.
Looking back, life was pretty easy in the US. But when we moved to Denmark, SR got depressed, understandably, missing his kids. And I didn't know how to react. I just tried to stay positive. I wouldn't allow him to make me feel guilty. And I just wanted everything to work out here so badly. Well, it was really hard for both of us and I wrapped myself up more and more into a ball. And running became not only my security blanket, but a desperate attempt to get SR to really admire me again. And now SR is gone at least 2 nights a week, and I wonder how much we're losing of what we used to share. Not that we haven't been in love this whole time; it's just different and more separate than it should be.
I have just started reading Jesper Olsen's Jorden Rundt i Løb (Around the world in run) where he describes running across the world. He talks about his decision to basically spend two years on his own. The whole idea sounded so wonderful and romantic to me. But then I realized, wow, no! what is happening to me? Why is it that I think so much in the first person now? I used to always think about us and now I think about me.
Well, when you really fall in love and you find the red thread that will define your life, you just pray you won't mess it up and have another "incomplete success". Thanks for reading. Sometimes it helps to put things into words. To answer Olga's question, yes, we still look lovingly into each others' eyes, but not enough.
Song of the day: Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world?
Photo from Mount Royal, Frisco, Colorado.
"Children are fascinated by the ordinary and can spend timeless moments watching sunlight play with dust. Their restlessness they learn from you. It is you who are thinking of there when you are here. It is you who thinks of then instead of now. Stop. Let your children become the teachers and you the student" - William Martin