 13. 14.
Breathe, Amy! 15! Ow, ow, ow… Poor elbows! Does that mean poor form? Or that I should’ve stopped sooner? Doesn’t matter this minute! 15! I did 15 pushups -- NOT modified! Go, Amy! Still, I need to remember to ask Zoe about proper form next week. Progress! Would I improve faster if I worked out every day? But what about rest in between? And I need to keep up my running. I’m getting better and faster every week. Not that I don’t have a long way to go. But… Up! To the mirror! I suppose I do look somewhat slimmer. The elastic waist of my sweatpants is loose. My clothes aren’t all baggy just yet, but I’ve lost a few pounds. I’m getting there. Eating mindfully, reasonably, prayerfully. Running. Strength training. I’m finally getting more flexible, too, thanks to yoga and barre. Best of all, for the most part, it’s fun. Who would’ve guessed? Down, girl! A couple of weeks ago, you were ready to quit! But I didn’t. Keep it up, Amy Munro.
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 “You played well today. See what happens when you practice?”
I hold out the candy bowl and Alex’s face lights up as he chooses a bag of gummy worms. Big, brown eyes, tousled black hair… A beautiful child who’s bound to grow up to be a handsome man. But he’s not going to be an accomplished pianist. He's barely scraping by. I suppose knowing the basics will be better than nothing. He practically bolts out the door. His mom’s waiting in her SUV. We wave to each other. She's the one who should be taking lessons. She loves the piano. Not that I’m accepting adult students! Phew! Four students back-to-back! It might not seem like a lot, but it’s plenty at the end of a workday. And I’m up to eight students a week with two more possibly starting next month. I love my piano room! Standing back to admire... It’s the one room I’m not worried about. With the two bright, yellow armchairs and a small, gray loveseat accented with yellow pillows, there’s plenty of seating. And I’m happy with the way my repainted, repurposed nightstand turned out. The gray paint matches the loveseat, and it works between the chairs, just big enough for a lamp and the candy bowl. Plus, drawers! Pens, worksheets, stickers, extra candy… And I was finally able to frame some of the sheet music that came with my piano with my garage sale frames. Eight of them – and they look great along the wall. Thematic. I can feel myself smiling as I tidy the room. I’m a piano teacher again! It’s a nice little boon to my budget, and I love the kids, love teaching them about music. Small victories!  “The time…” I force myself to stand slowly instead of popping up from the curb like a jack-in-the-box.
Simon stands, too. “Thanks for the shoulder. My moaning and groaning have made us both late for work.” “Not if we hustle.” I hug him. “Anyway, doesn’t matter.” Stepping back, I look him in the eye. “You’ll take care of yourself, Simon? Call if you need me or want to talk.” A faint smile. Yes! Our talk hasn’t solved anything, but he looks less tense. “I will, Mom. You’re a great listener. Thanks.” We literally jog away in opposite directions. I don’t know about Simon, but I have a fighting chance to be at work on time. Forty minutes! Listener, schmisener. I feel so useless. But the situation is out of my control, out of my realm of experience, and, in truth, absolutely none of my business. None of which can stop me from worrying about a friend or wanting to help. Life isn’t fair. At least, not always. People make mistakes. And then they make more mistakes. People – people we care about -- hurt themselves and get hurt by others and we can’t get unhurt for them. Rushing through my house, I glance at my backyard and wince. I complained to Simon about my decorating issues for at least fifteen minutes without even asking "how are you?" Before even really looking at him… Stupid, self-absorbed, clueless… Kind words, Amy. Nope.  “I think you’re worrying too much. What’s your hurry? Are you expecting house guests this week?”
“No, but…” I need to breathe for a few. Simon and I are, well, to say we’re running would be exaggerating. But for sure, it’s more than walking. Jogging. That’s what we’re doing. We’re jogging. And I’m out of breath. Embarrassed, I sneak a sideways glance. He doesn’t look too good, but I don’t think he has a problem with the pace as I do. There are dark circles under his eyes and I doubt his deep frown is due to my lack of patio furniture. “Can we slow down?” “Sure. Sorry, Amy. I’m not paying attention.” “On the contrary. I know I slow you down. Thanks for your patience.” He waves it away but doesn’t speak. “Simon?” “Yeah?” “What’s wrong?” He shoots me a glance. “Don’t ask.” What am I supposed to do with that? Clearly, he’s upset – very upset – about something. Would I be intruding…? Now's not the time to be timid. He’s always encouraging me. “C’mon, Simon. Aren’t we friends?” “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Amy.” “Not afraid.” His sigh seems to come from way down deep. He runs a hand down his face. He looks so tired. “My bitch ex is fuckin’ around with us again.” Yikes.  Empty backyard. Empty guest bedroom. Hello? Anybody home?
If I glare lasers at the four boxes sitting in the corner of the small, square room, will they disappear? I’ve lived here for five months and haven’t even bothered storing them properly. Why, Amy? Why? It’ll officially be spring in a couple of weeks, but it feels like spring NOW. My first spring in my new house! It’s a time to celebrate! I need a new wreath – or maybe I’ll just redecorate the fall one? I need to plant flowers! And my backyard is as bare as if no one ever lived here before me! The real estate agent had explained that the hedge died in a rare, deep freeze. When I’d been offered the option of new shrubs of the sellers’ choice or to deduct it from the price of the house, I’d chosen the latter. Had that been a mistake? No! It’s my house, my blank slate. Do something, Amy! Add your personality and country girl know-how! Except that I’ve never planted much of anything and have no idea what will grow out there. What to do first? Backyard? Guest room? One or more of my family members will eventually stay overnight. But they’ll probably expect at least patio furniture as well as a bed. Maybe even a grill. Aaagh!  “Thank you, Amy. That was delicious.”
I’m grinning ear to ear as Thomas and I carry our plates into the kitchen. I’m so relieved, I could dance a jig! He liked my Coconut Shrimp Curry! Thank you, Mrs. Patel! He turns on the faucet. “Thomas, no! Thank you, but I’ll take care of the dishes later.” “Absolutely not. It’ll take us less than ten minutes!” “But…” He kisses me and starts rinsing the plates even as I lean in for more. “Ten minutes,” he repeats. “Once we’re done, what do you see we take our wine outside? It’s a beautiful night.” Don’t panic, Amy! “I…” “The cool nights have been great, don’t you think?” He’s not looking at me as he lightly scrubs the plates. I take a breath. “I do, but…” “And it’s clear tonight, too. We can stargaze.” “It’s just that…” I feel so embarrassed. “Amy?” He glances at me. Shutting off the water, he turns towards me. “Is something wrong?” “Not really. It’s just that…” “Don’t look so worried.” “I'm not. I just don’t have any…” I feel ridiculous. “Any what?” “I don’t have anything to sit on out there. Actually, there’s hardly more than a concrete square and a rectangle of grass.” Thomas stares at me for a moment. Drying his hands on a dish towel, he pulls me close with a smile. “Good thing you have some really comfortable living room furniture.” Normally, that comment would thrill me. He kisses me, then kisses me again. And all I can think of is the blank slate that’s my backyard.  “I need more vegetarian recipes, Samira.”
She laughs. “What did you eat during Lent before you knew me?” “You don’t want to know!” “Not only potatoes, I hope?” “And pasta! Don’t forget pasta!” “Well, you’ll need some carbs. But I can send you a few recipes that are veggie heavy. You still have basmati rice, don’t you?” “Enough to share with the whole neighborhood! I bought a ten-pound bag! But isn’t that just as bad as potatoes and pasta?” “I’m not a nutritionist, but I don’t think so. In any case, for your goals, stick to less rice, more veggies. But you don’t want to get hungry and binge. Or do something against your Lent.” I have to smile at the way she says it. She’s not Christian, but she cares that I am. “Thank you. You’re the best.” “Mother says to join us for dinner. She’ll give you some recipes after.” “I don’t mean to…” “We insist.” “Well, if you insist…”  “There’s no time like spring, when life’s alive in everything…"
Well said, Christina Rossetti! What a gorgeous day. It might not officially be spring yet, but it sure feels like it. Cool, sunny, breezy... Birds singing. Squirrels scampering. Lawns turning green. Azaleas beginning to bloom. I hope that everyone is paying attention! It’s too beautiful to miss! It’s the time of year for poetry. A romantic time of year. Romance… Thomas… “Amy! Ouf!” Simon catches me as I bounce off him and almost fall backwards. “You should be more careful, little Miss Daydreamer!” “Simon, hi! I’m so sorry! I was just thinking what a beautiful day it is!” He’s smiling. “Yeah. I have to admit, the weather’s been pretty nice, lately. But are you sure you weren’t thinking of a certain someone?” “Simon!” My cheeks burn! He bursts out laughing. “Thomas almost ran into me, too!”  Is that really me?
I smile at my friend in the mirror and give a little shrug. “I don’t look half bad.” She scoffs. “You look amazing!” I’m the sepia dental hygienist. Susan is the bright and beautiful one. She has fab, blonde hair, a super cute face, and her scrubs are always pretty colors, mostly pink. And her makeup? You’d think she was always about to go on a date instead of spending the day cleaning little kids’ teeth. Although, when I think of it, she usually is about to go out. I’m really lucky that she agreed to spend part of her Saturday helping me prepare for a date. She hands me a round, makeup mirror. “Look at your hair! It’s gorgeous! We did gooood!” Gorgeous is a huge exaggeration. But she did something… No, Amy. She taught you – taught you – how to tame the frizzies. The smooth, lustrous, reddish-brown curtain falling just past my shoulders doesn’t even look like my hair. Turning back around, I stare at my reflection. It would never have occurred to me to part my hair on the side instead of in the middle. And makeup! I refused foundation. Can’t stand the stuff. Susan accepted my stubbornness only in trade for some serious eye makeup. She’s staring at me, too. “i love the sweater. Don’t you?” “Yeah, I do.” Honestly? The soft, sage green sweater looks and feels great. And the dark stretch jeans that she also made me buy are flattering and reasonably comfortable. And ankle boots, not too high… Winter clothes, all on sale, just in time. We both raked up. It was fun. I want to hug Susan, to thank her. But I can’t look away just yet. It’s still sinking in. I actually like what I see. And I’m wearing feather earrings. Feathers! Who are you, Amy Munro?  What a beautiful morning! Pick up speed, Amy! You don’t have all day!
Consistency. Small victories. Barre tonight. A date with Thomas Saturday! Angry Neighbor alert! DO NOT move to the grass, Amy! You have as much right to the sidewalk as she does. She wipes her nose with her wrist. She’s… Crying? Closer, now. Yeah, she’s crying. Running and crying at the same time. The look she shoots me… My breath catches. Death glare. Sheer hostility. I… Wow. That's one unhappy person. You should feel sorry for her, Amy. Again, death glare? How am I supposed to feel sorry for her? She wouldn’t want my sympathy, anyway. That little voice... God wants it. And more... But... Her hateful look! What gives her the right? I'm pretty sure steam's coming out of my ears! I don't feel sorry for her at all. That's the simple truth. I can't help how I feel. Can I? I'M SO ANNOYED! |
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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