Monthly Archives: March 2010

Dating

What I Want

They say if you don’t know exactly what it is you want, than you won’t know how to recognize it when you get it. To avoid that terrible tragedy, this is what I want….

I want to wake up in the morning, to freshly brewed coffee. Coffee brewed not by an automatic-timer, but by a thoughtful caring companion. Someone who knows that without black, piping hot coffee in the morning, I’m a hot mess!

I want to be held. I mean really held. Embraced. Squeezed. Enveloped in your arms. Made to feel safe and secure. At home. Lost in that basic human act of a loving hug. The kind of hug that you know, nothing in the world can touch you. You are safe. Everything’s going to be alright.

I want you to see the good in me. See when my intentions are pure, even if my actions are erratic.

I want you to see that the best part of me, is the part that cares for and loves my children, and that without them I would be nothing, shallow and drifting.

I want you to appreciate all the little things I do to let you know you are special to me. (And since this is a wish list, I want you to strive to do the same in return).

I want to laugh. Big belly laughs. Laughs that turn into tears. I want my cheeks to hurt from smiling and my eyes to sparkle.

I want to be surprised, in every possible way.

I want you to hold my hand in public, treat me like your arm candy. Let me rest my head on your shoulder, walk arm in arm with me. Be proud of me.

I want butterflies that shake me like a hurricane.

I want you to dance with me. Whenever, wherever for no reason, with or without music.

I want to be challenged. Question my decisions. Disagree with me. Tell me I’m wrong! Make a case. Convince me there is another way, (maybe even a better way). Don’t put up with my shit! If I get on your nerves tell me why.

When I push, push back. Hold your own, don’t let me scare you. I want you to be the rock I can lean on, the leader I can follow. The one who’s “got it covered”.

Listen to me. Remember what I say. Pay attention. I will remember everything about you, all those little details, all the things you say when you think I’m not paying attention. I will remember.

Be attentive. Find ways to show me that I’m an important part of your life.

I want to play together, grow together, push each other and learn from each other. I want to make you better and I want to be better for you.

I want fluid, not stagnant.

I want to trust you. Put my whole self in. Not just my toes, but completely be able to trust. Just let the fear go, and fall, no shoot. No back-up plan, just fall. Knowing the landing will be soft, because your arms are strong.

I want to be consoled when I’m inconsolable. Protected when I’m vulnerable.

I want to be cherished. Thought highly of. Trusted.

I want you to believe in me. Believe that I am capable of things I can’t even conceive of myself.

Support me. Dream with me. Value me.

I want to feel alive. I want you to feel energized and alive when you’re with me. I want to love this life, it’s the only one we have, I want not to waste it.

I want to cook for you, do your laundry, take care of you when you’re sick. The things most people hate, I want.

I want to take care of you, I want you to take care of me.

I want to be loved.
Madly.
Ridiculously.
Illogically…
loved.

Written by Sarah Centrella

Divorce My Stories

Solitary.

I’m crying and I don’t know why. I can’t stop and I don’t know why. It’s those ugly sobs. The kind you lie on the floor and curl into a ball for because it’s the only comfortable place to be.

I dreaded coming home tonight. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I know how quite and still it will be when I unlock the door and turn on the light. I do though, I have to. I open the door, see the train track my three bubbling babies and I put together on the living room floor at 6 AM this morning, and I’m reminded.
Moments like these feel so solitary.

So uniquely solitary.

I fold to my knees begin picking up the wooden track, the little cars, the tiny engines, tears forming, sobs unstoppable.

One year ago tomorrow I lost a girlfriend to cancer. I broke down at my desk hearing the news. She was younger than me, with two small children. It was shocking and heart wrenching. A year ago I sat in the church at her wake sobbing, wondering if that was me where would my children go? Who would give them the life I promised them? I was awaiting biopsy results on thyroid cancer myself, results that still need to be redone quarterly and I was heartbroken and afraid.

I sit here in a pile of train tracks missing a life. A life of a girlfriend and all the potential possibilities she had. But missing my own life as well. In the midst of my tears I noticed her husband’s loving post on Facebook:

“One year ago tomorrow morning at 3:05 AM…we sat alone….I held your hand while you took your last breath. The kids and I will love you forever….we miss you….and your spirit will NEVER leave us.”

It breaks my heart to read, yet makes me feel silly for feeling alone in this moment. At least my aloneness is not his. But then I think, he can always love her, he can miss her, he can mourn her. I can do none of this in my situation. The one I shared 16 years of my life with is essentially worse than dead to me, because I was never given the chance, to grieve, or to miss or to mourn the end of a life shared together. It was just over in an instant, in wicked betrayal and deceit.

It’s times like these when I feel the most alone. When the comfort of a companion is hard to go without. When knowing someone knows you and still endures, even loves you, is priceless.

 

Written by Sarah Centrella

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