Movement

I stood on the front sidewalk watching my friends drive away from the shades of the Midwest. One slid into her car with a smile as she prepared for the drive back to school with her fiance, wedding dress in tow and plans conquered over the weekend. The other slipped into her rented mini-van, newly born son safely secured and husband next to her as they got ready to head south to visit more family.

I stood on the front sidewalk, by myself, wondering how things so dramtically changed. Not long ago, in this brevity of life, did we all three stand on that sidewalk, say goodbye and head off to college. All looking to determine our futures and find love. We found both. The ideas a little different than we had expected or dreamed about, but nonetheless happiness on our ends. And then life on my side changed. My happiness shattered and my future seemed to disappear. I can't lie and say this weekend was amazing and beautiful and great. Because even though it was all of those things, for me it wasn't.

My best friends are amazing people and I wish them nothing but the best happiness in the world. I'm so happy for them as one starts a new life as a mother and the other soon to be a wife. Seeing them smile brings tears to my eyes in such a paradoxical way. I'm happy for then, yet my heart breaks when I think about what could have been for me. I think about the wedding dress which will soon hang in the back of my closet, a skeleton of the joy it was supposed to be. I look at my new "nephew," his bright blue eyes and miraculous life and I wonder if there will ever be a newborn child for me. I ask about wedding planning, and motherhood, and future plans completely numb to the nothingness going on in my life. I respond to their questions of how I am the best way I can, talking about classes and running and ideas of what I'm thinking about doing. All the while thinking I have no idea what is ahead of me.

Seeing them this weekend, the three of us being together again, even at such different points in our lives, was amazing and I wouldn't trade it for the world.
It's just hard feeling so numb and alone and paused when life all around is moving forward.