I mentioned yesterday how my grandmother always asks me if I’ve “met anyone interesting lately.” I know this is her subtle, nonchalant way of asking me if I’m dating anyone. No matter the current state of affairs, so to speak, I always answer the same: I meet interesting people all the time.
As far as why I always answer the same, I suppose I have a lot of reasons for it. They vary from shallow and lazy to deep and well, deeper. The obvious reason is that no matter how much wine I’ve had at Thanksgiving dinner, a conversation with my grandmother about my love life is not my idea of fun. The more truthful reason is that I keep this information pretty close to me, no matter who’s doing the asking. I guard the information as if only the right combination of time, reassurance and love will be the one thing that will ever allow me to let it go. It’s mine, until I decide otherwise.
I sort of know why I do this, I’m careful by nature. I’m doing it to protect them. And I’m doing it to protect me. If I don’t tell them what’s going on then they can’t be disappointed when there’s no news to share. Also, if I don’t have good news then I won’t have bad news, either. But does it make sense?
I’m not trying to turn this into a “love never works for me” kind of thing though, because that’s not true. The truth is, love has worked for me. I’ve had a first crush, a first kiss, and a first love; both as a kid and as an adult. And for what I knew about it at the time, it was pretty good. Break ups aside, I’m alright with it. I’ve learned and will continue to learn; which really is a good thing most of the time. Knowing this makes it even harder for me to understand why I keep a lot of the details to myself. I’m not bitter about love, I just don’t want to talk about it-or anything to do with it. Convincing, right?
Today though, I’m beginning to understand a little more. I’m house-sitting for some family this week and while I was wandering around their house looking for the cat, the hundreds of pictures of their family kept capturing my attention. No matter where I looked, the pictures were everywhere; mom, dad, two boys, one cat, one dog. Then I noticed other things like handmade birthday cards and art work. There were painted rocks: “To Mom, I love you most.” There were carved wooden sticks with initials and dates. I stood staring at markings on the wall where the increasing height of the kids was measured and marked for the last eighteen years and it began to sink in.
There was a past and a future all wrapped up in this house. There were wedding pictures of the beginning of this journey and all the moments that followed. There were lives and futures and hearts all wrapped up in this one place. I know these people well and I see them all the time but I would have never guessed that one of my greatest moments with them would be when they weren’t even there. I realized the value of that. It’s special and precious. It should be protected.
Before now, I thought I wasn’t seeing things right or thinking clearly. I considered that it might be wrong for me to not just “put it all out there.” Why shouldn’t I share? Why shouldn’t everyone know? Not now though. Now, it feels right. As long as I don’t build a wall, a little safeguard is okay. It’s my life, my future and my heart. If there’s anything worth a little protecting, it’s that.
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