On Wednesday I met JY for sushi and was very happy to spend some time with her. She has such a great sense of humor and as been such a good friend for so many years (10!).
After sushi, in a half-assed attempt to find some ice cream, we walked down Broadway and decided to stop into the Goodwill to find some treasures (it is a toss-up to what I laughed over most, the mini-skateboard or the book Lesbians Raising Sons).
In the midst of a very cluttered housewares row, I found 10 or so trophies, ranging from tennis to baseball to hockey, and all engraved with the names Matt Nolan or Matthew Nolan.
We speculated that Matt Nolan could be dead. Or perhaps his parents donated the items after he moved out. Or Matt had to give things away to make room for a wife, 2.5 kids and a golden retriever.
It was quite eerie to stumble across a pile of trophies that represented a good chunk of a man's lifetime. As though their existence and subsequent abandonment reflected a rejection of the man himself.
I tried to imagine Mom donating the important things from my childhood and I realized that everything I remember being important are things I still have. Some books. Pooh Bear. But mostly my family, friends, and memories.
Today was a sad day in its own way.
Dealing with a pet's death, the death of a friend's brother, a pissed off man-friend and the normal Friday work crap along with missing RF terribly, I really just did not want to be awake today. As though I could wrap an emotional coma around my shoulders like a Snuggie and come out on the other side, healed, saying "I know I was under for awhile, but I heard everything you said."
Instead, I powered through, drank a few beers, ate some hot dogs, relaxed with some friends, took a walk, had a good talk, and laughed a lot. These were the trophies of the day. The rest of it was the work, the sacrifice, the pain that was necessary to reap the rewards.
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