It's Not Raining.

Back in March I briefly introduced you to a rather bear like gentleman who happened to be kind, handsome, and somehow patient enough to deal with me and my antics. Sometime later I was reminded of a simple truth that Dad taught us as kids: bears are just as scared of us as we are of them.

Although I, as everyone does, hoped my bear would be the exception, he was not. Conveniently though, he ended things the same week that Spring semester ended, so I had just enough free time to wallow in the rainstorm of my pathetic sorrow without falling behind on my classes! With time the storm ran out of rain, and I felt like I could wear clean clothes and eat ice cream again. (Naturally, I waited for the sadness to melt away before eating ice cream because I didn't want that frozen gold to be emotionally linked to memories of a silly boy! Priorities, right?)

Have you ever wandered outside after a rain storm passes and a strong wind gust blows leftover water off of the tree leaves? You can feel the water sprinkle on your arms or face and suddenly think, “Oh no, is it raining again?” Then, you realize that it's just the wind.

That's kind of what it felt like. A few days passed and I had thought I was all better, but then small moments kept catching me off guard and, like the wind, would blow leftover emotions off the leaves in my chest. The windy moments would make me question whether I lost trust in my heart or him. That's when I needed to remind myself that it wasn’t raining, but rather just the wind.

For example, there was an afternoon where I ran into him at the grocery store and forgot how to casually talk about the weather, so I talked about my calculator instead. I turned awkwardly to my car and cried all the way to wherever I was going because it seemed like the most appropriate thing to do. It was just the wind. The first few times I saw him on duty I had to remind myself that he was “a" colleague rather than “my" colleague, and he wasn’t going to want a hug before I left. There were days early on that I wanted to annoy him with pictures of the perfect Toy Story clouds but remembered I probably shouldn’t, which was silly to be sad about because he never appreciated the clouds like I do! These, and all the rest, were just the wind and thankfully the leaves run out of rain.

St. Thomas Aquinas wrote, "To love is to will the good of another." I suppose I came to realize that to will not only his good but also my own meant that change, although initially unwelcome, was appropriate. In the end, I still a friend I can annoy with clouds, call if something goes wrong, and even steal a hug from before leaving station.
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For all the above, I’m thankful;

Figure 1. At least for now, but I dare you to click on the photo.