(These aren't real diary entries. Just creating a heart-smitten girl persona).
Dear Diary - There is a man sitting to my right. And he is pretty dashing, but I'm trying not to look. We're driving to my new house in Salt Lake City - just finished packing up the remains of our old townhome. And this man insisted he ride with me even though my car was packed in every crack. But I'm not really surprised he wanted to squeeze in here with me because Julie said he was interested in me and he'd probably try to get to know me today. And I only know who he is because he was Julie's friend, and when I got back from Africa, they tried earnestly to get me to come hang out with them, but I was Miss Africa Pouty Pants and only wanted to sit in the basement and draw zebras on the wall with a sharpie. But I came across him on Instagram a couple weeks ago, and he looked interesting. Lots of adventures. So I followed. Whatever. Then Julie, Kersti, Cici, and I went out for dinner one night and as we sat in the lounge of the restaurant, they told me to date him. "YOU DATE HIM," I said, "Also, food now please." And little did I realize that by me following him, he'd search me out and find my blog, reading every post in just days, developing a deep intrigue and interest for me. So, while I was packing tupperware in my kitchen this morning, and he was talking to me across the counter, I only knew him as someone who lived up the road, but he knew about the entire world churning inside of me. Observing a deeper me than I realized he knew. That's a little bit magical. And now, here he we are alone in my car, sailing down the freeway, and he's telling me about the pumpkin selling business he started when he was seven. Cute. Anyway, we're here at my new home, and I have to unload my 70 pillows. Goodbye.
Dear Diary, some time has gone by, and I've been seeing more of this man. One night we were laying on his couch, and he pulled me close and asked if there was anything he could do for me. If he could do anything that would help me be more comfortable in this new journey. Or if I ever need him to change for the better, he's good with constructive criticism. I didn't really say anything. But I found it peculiar, as if he knew security and trust was particularly important to me. Tonight I laid my first card in this game.
Dear Diary, I found out he does know. He already knows of my past; my divorce; my really fearful heart. He found it on the video I filmed for Jacy. He held me so tightly and said how sorry he was. Where do you put love and fear when they come together?
Dear Diary, I'm wearing his flannel shirt and grilling chicken on the patio at Bear Lake. We are staying here for the weekend with a house full of friends. The patio overlooks all of the water, and he has gone down to the lake to pull in his boat and bring our friends up for dinner. When I woke up this morning and groggily found him in the next room on the couch, I crawled underneath the blanket with him and he pulled me close while the sun brightened the whole house. Then we spent a perfect day out on the water. Anyway, now the chicken is finished cooking, and I'll serve all our friends, but I'll wait for him to come back so we can eat together.
Dear Diary, last night at Bear Lake, in the house of all those people, I felt my burrow of sadness start to surface - the one I hold so deeply. I had talked to a woman who was also divorced. And though I don't doubt the intensity of other people's personal experiences, my divorce seems to have latched onto such a tender spot that I can't set free the way others have. So I retreated to the bedroom upstairs. He came to my side and read me a C.S. Lewis quote about the obstruction and expansion of a house. Then shared a scripture about greater blessings then we can even imagine are to come. And then held me tight while playing "Wanted" by Hunter Hayes. He still texts me the link for that song when he thinks I need to hear it.
More memories to come.
Upward and onward,