Dear Santa

Thanks for making my Christmas so jolly, festive and relaxing. I probably should have written to you earlier to share my wishlist, but it slipped my mind due to the massive food coma I've been in for the last....oh, since Thanksgiving. That, and I'll be honest, I've been a bit naughty this year. However, I've consistently tried my best to spread cheer to others (girlfriends, male friends, babies in the park, etc.), feed the less fortunate (aka friends and roommates that don't cook), and donate to goodwill (making room for new replacements). If I had composed a wishlist, here's what it probably would have included:

* a new hairdo
* vet shots for Monty
* a beach vacation
* a nice guy for my sister
* an automated color-coded closet organizer
* the ability to command 8 hours of glorious sleep daily

Oh, and world peace. I had to aim high, right?

Thanks, and I promise to be less naughty next year.

Your friend,
Kim

a glimpse of hope

"There's just something about you," he told me. He (M) was a genuinely kind person, and for lack of a better way to put it, a sweet young man. M started out as a harmless acquaintance turned romantic interest, and then turned into a good friend. M had good intentions and no bad qualities to speak of. What was lacking during the romantic interest phase was an overwhelming sense of passion on my part. While M was great (a girl would be lucky to have him), I didn't get the heart-beating-a-mile-a-minute feeling. It was the kind of fondness I feel for my friends. Just friends. For a little while, M had a hard time understanding my point of view. Perhaps it was his inexperience talking or his determination spurring him on. Thinking back, I was probably guilty of being naive too. I wanted to think that our relationship was purely platonic and could stay that way...that he had swept aside his feelings and saw me as just another female friend. The truth didn't fully dawn on me until he uttered those words the last time I saw him, which happened to be days before he left NYC.

There's a reason why I remembered that particular comment at this moment in time. I was just reading my previous post and recalling how V told me it sounded a bit harsh and pessimistic. I didn't mean to dismiss the entire NYC dating scene, but it's the point of view I had that day. Moments ago, I thought back to my "it's complicated" history and found hope in M's words. It's how we should all feel whether we're single or attached. If nothing else, M's statement made me feel special in that moment in time - like I could possibly be the most special person to an individual. It may have been a small gesture from him, but it carried a lot of weight in my opinion. I appreciated his honesty and thoughtfulness. It taught me that even when romantic feelings aren't reciprocated, a connection can be made. A friendship can be forged. And for that, I will feel lucky.

Only Time

I have to wonder, when looking back on the past, do we tend to see an abundance of heart-warming moments or a chain of ill-fated events? Do we reflect more upon old regrets and missed opportunities or the times when we acted on pure impulse and spontaneity? Is our past charged with colorful people and events or does it speak of a slow and steady pace? Is it bursting with laughter or encased in sadness? Did we live each day richly or did we squander away valuable moments? Will we merely have glimpses of those that we loved but are no longer in our lives or will we truly cherish them and carry them with us for all time? Do we define ourselves by what we have accomplished or what we have yet to achieve? Do we long more for the past or an uncertain future?

I think if I look just behind me, I’ll see many smiling faces, good conversations and intense moments of bliss. I open my heart to the good because it feels familiar, warm and safe. It’s an old friend touching me on the shoulder and whispering secrets in my ear. I step into the moment and smile both inside and out. But if I look further back – far beyond yesterday – I see uneven sprinkles of the good and the bad.

The bad is another story. I intentionally blur the bad memories for fear of pain, disappointment and heartache. I keep them very close to the surface without exposing them. I try to silence them before whole stories and conversations unfold. Yes, they are a blessing in disguise because without them, I would not have grown as a person or known desire. But they are also anchors in many ways – when I let them fill my mind. Then and there, I stand on the edge of hope and depression – both chained to the past and reaching for a new memory that I truly wish to be good. Often, I slip back into the past but am buoyed by the reminder of future good. I don’t delete the bad. I merely inch forward a little each day until I find the strength to resolve the past, to accept the bad in its entirety and somehow surrender myself to tomorrow.