 My arms are wet noodles. My heart is pounding. And I’m shaking ever-so-slightly.
“Let me get this straight. On your way here, you literally ran into the same guy you crashed into a few weeks ago?” I can’t answer. My sweaty face is buried in my towel. It can’t be hygienic. Three sets of seated rows. All because the gym is crowded tonight and we would have had to wait for other machines. “Amy? Are you okay?” You can do it, Amy. Look up. The first thing I see is myself in one of the damned mirrors. Amy! Language! There are MIRRORS AND WINDOWS EVERYWHERE! My face is fire engine red. My hair is sweaty, frizzy, and sticking up all over the place. And perspiration is still running down my temples. Back to burrowing my face in my disgusting towel. Zoe laughs. Laughs! “I hope you’re proud of yourself! You did it, girl!” “’Proud’” isn’t the word I would choose!” Although actually, I can feel the pride sneaking in. I did do it! “Oh, no? What word would you choose? I'm very proud of you.” I peek at her. She's smiling hugely. Proud as proud can be. I can’t help but smile back. “Can you move yet?” She hands me some wipes. “We need to head out. At least, I do.” “Must. Shower. ASAP.” Zoe laughs again as I force myself to stand. Oooouch. “So, it’s the same guy?” I nod as we wipe down the torture… the machines. “And you like him?” “No! I didn’t say that.” “Oh, sugar…”
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 Not again. Much as I’ve been hoping…
Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him. “Amy? Is that you? Are you okay?” Santa, send the reindeer! Get me out of here! “T…Thomas?” “Are you okay? What happened?” “I didn’t notice the roots.” He frowns. “Yeah, oak trees are great, just not for sidewalks.” “Right.” He’s wearing sweats – like me! Only his are blue while mine are gray. Or are those joggers? Is there a difference? Whatever. He looks…cuddly. “Are you hurt? Can you stand?” “My hands are a little scraped up, but I’m fine. I can definitely stand. It’s walking that seems to be a problem for me.” His laugh is a surprisingly deep, delicious rumble. And those eyes… He holds out a hand and I grab hold with first one, then both of mine. Déjà vu?  Exercise! A sure stress buster!
My phone dings. I should text back. Almost there, Zoe. Emergency, holiday HIIT in thirty minutes or less. Zoe's words. I’m not even sure what it is, but at least it will only take half an hour. She wouldn’t let me bail. I can't believe I tried telling Zoe, working mother of three, that I have too much to do. Looking around... Here I am, walking alone, laughing out loud. I can't help it! Zoe laughed at me! Of course, she did. But then she reminded me, “Remember, Amy, better health, better life. Your health is a priority." Right! And she’s also right about me enjoying my walk to the gym on a Christmasy evening. The lights! It's so bright out here! Some are massive, extravagant displays, others a few lights flung over shrubs or so-called airport runways. Bright, colorful lights, peaceful white… Santa, reindeer, nativity scenes, angels… I love them all. Wait… Is that? Owww!  Okay, so…happy tears! I can’t help it!
A piano -- I can hardly believe it. The cute, old couple…ready to lighten up and move to a retirement community in Arizona. They practically gave it away – and with music books! Should I call it a Christmas gift? I think so. It’s Christmas time, after all. This sweet, old, upright piano with its rich, beautiful tones is my gift from me to me. I’ve so missed playing since I moved away from home. But I could hardly ask my parents to give me their piano. I can reconnect with Bach. I can have fun with a little jazz. And I can play Christmas songs.  Yikes! Christmas is in exactly one week! I have so much to do!
Office Christmas party -- my house, my idea -- this Thursday. It’s more of a gift exchange and toast than a party, but still… But Friday, I’ll host a real party. Again, my idea! I've never hosted a Christmas party on my own before and now two in a row! Nervous. Stressed. Excited. Oh, boy! But my new friends have all been so sweet. I want to thank them and to celebrate with them before I leave to spend Christmas and the long holiday weekend with my family. I need to get food! And drinks! And some disposable dinnerware! And I still have half my Christmas list to buy. And wrap! Not to mention a short, extra busy work week! Breathe in… Buy gifts online, expedited shipping if necessary. Maybe order some groceries to be delivered. But that ad I saw this morning...I need to check it out in person, ASAP. Holiday stress! I can’t stop smiling.  Crafty, craft, craft…
I’m dreaming of a Christmas wreath…with all the mistletoe I want… Phew! I’m glad I got out of the craft store alive AND with money still in my account! Tonight, I will hang a Christmas wreath on my front door. But first, an evening walk. Not a stroll. A walk. A brisk walk. Swing those arms, Amy! Turning the corner…THE corner. I wonder if I’ll see again? I wonder where he lives… I wonder if he’s single? Amy! Enough! Thomas Wilson. Aka, Blue Eyes. Keep walking.  “Whoa! Are you okay?”
No! I think I just broke my butt! As I look up, he squats down. Suddenly, I can’t breathe. Blue eyes – so blue – beneath wireframed glasses, a mess of curly, reddish hair, sensitive mouth… “I don’t know how that happened…” He looks confused. “My fault! I was waving to my friends at the bus stop instead of looking where I was going.” Even as I speak, Samira runs up. “Amy! Are you all right?” “I think so. Just embarrassed.” “You fell hard!” Not helping, Samira. “Can you stand?” Blue Eyes still looks concerned. “Let me help you up.” Standing, he extends a long arm. I grab his hand with both of mine. Ooomph! Smack right into his chest! He’s tall. And he smells nice and soapy.  Nooo!
How? How can sweatpants be tight? That’s it! I’ve got to get moving. One walk a week does not an exercise program make. But I have work. And a new house. Lots of shopping and decorating to do. And friends and neighbors. And it gets dark early. And, and, and… Okay, Amy, so just continue to do what you're doing and not get into shape. Obviously, everything else is way more important. Round is a shape... Aaagh! Breathe, Amy. I get off work at 5:00, home at 5:30, latest. Even if it's starting to get dark, it's not late and the neighborhood's well lit. Or I could work out in the morning. Both? Alternate? And what happened to yoga, Amy? You know there are beginner classes. Onward, woman! This is your new life! This is your only life. Don’t forget it.  “Well, it is…” Carmen is standing in the middle of my living room, lips twitching.
I cross my arms. “Is what?” “Eclectic?” I snort. Yep. That’s me making that sound. “Oh, come on, Amy! Every piece of furniture that’s been given to you is of good quality. You’ll figure out a way to tie it all together. In the meantime, you have a table.” She gestures towards my Christmas tree decorators. Emily, Emile, Tara, and Amir are seated at said table, chatting and snacking on popcorn and Christmas cookies. I can’t help but smile. They’ve been working hard -- cutting, taping, stringing, painting… Carmen nods, as if I’d spoken. “See how nice? Your workers would have been sitting on the floor.” They’re kids. They wouldn’t have cared. I stare at her, hoping to convey how unimpressed I am with her reasoning. She continues. “Your parents are sweet. I’m glad I got to meet them before they left. And admit it, you were relieved to have your dad’s help with the Christmas lights.” I heave a sigh. “Yes, they’re sweet, and I was relieved, although I was excited about doing it myself. But I’m beginning to realize that even my family has issues.” “Why are you surprised? All families do. It’s a fact of life.” “Is it?” I sound grumpy even to myself. “Yes, and we love them anyway, just as they love us. Right?” Her turn to cross her arms. Not feeling it… I mean, I'm grateful. Really, I am. I was just hoping to hang onto “my mad” a little longer. She waits. My parents did drive a long way for me. And true, Dad helped with the lights. A lot. And Mom brought several containers of my favorite meals. I know they love me. I love them, too. Carmen nudges my shoulder with hers. "Right, Amy?" Another sigh... Truth. "Right."  “Amy, I’m sorry, but that tree is pitiful. Don’t look at me like that. It’s the truth.”
I’m trying so hard not to glare at my mom. And clearly not succeeding. “Mama, as I mentioned on the phone, I was planning to decorate this weekend.” “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll still be able to. We’re not spending the night.” And now I feel like a jerk. “You can’t go back tonight. It's a long drive! You can have my bed. I'll sleep on the sofa you drove all this way to give me.” Katie's old sofa, which is a neutral color, like the blanket she gave me, still in excellent condition. And an old, small dining room set they had stored in their barn... I might like it. Eventually... I know I should feel grateful, not mad. I know it, but... Mom smiles and shakes her head. “Thank you, honey. Not this trip. We have plans after church tomorrow. I just couldn’t stand the thought of you not having a stick of furniture in your house. Except…” She looks at my diwan, then back at me, one eyebrow raised. I don’t appreciate the implied criticism. My house. My diwan. “My neighbors surprised me.” “No doubt.” It’s going to be a long day. |
She loves people, books, poetry, baking, and is currently obsessed with her new house!
Unfortunately, she's not so crazy about herself. That has to change. You've Got This, Amy Munro! Archives
April 2024
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