“I have something fun to tell you,” I smiled, working hard to control my giddy excitement.
“YOU’RE PREGNANT!” he exclaimed.
I laughed. “Funny, my mom made that same joke when I called to tell her I had something I’d better tell her before it went up on the blog.”
He thought that was great. “But what’s your real news?”
So I told him, and his enthusiasm shone through strong and true for me. He was excited for me. And proud.
“But wait. I need to backtrack here a bit. … Did you say you blogged about this?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “Oh. Honey. Have I been blogging about you!“
It wasn’t my intention to spill myself all over my blog this time around. It’s something I’ve done so much of in the past, and while some very artful posts have come from those experiences, some pathetic, whiny pieces of writing I wish I could make disappear have also resulted from those situations. I didn’t want to look back at any of that and remember how I felt or have to berate myself for behaving the way I may have been behaving.
But I couldn’t help it. Some days, it was all that was on my mind, all I could possibly write about… and I couldn’t abandon this place.
I did what I could to ensure I wouldn’t be embarrassed by myself later.
At one point, we had been talking on the phone when my blog came up, and he asked two things of me, should I decide to blog about him. One, not to use any identifying information, and two, to be completely honest, no matter what. He’s not a fan of having his life publicized or published in any way. He’s very private. You may never see a photo of him, even on my facebook profile. We’re opposites like that. But, he thought it may be enlightening, may offer insight, were he to ever read it… so he said to go for it.
I’ve honored both requests, and I’ve always written as though he may come in and read what I’ve written tomorrow or twenty years from now. Not that I’ve ever had to hold back.
But it makes me wonder, after weeks apart, what he might think if he were to log on to CourtneyOlson.com and read what was going on during that time. I believe we spent our time very differently.
But so much changed during that time. So much changed on February 14th. So much changed on Saturday, when after a simple question, he had me heading down winding country roads to meet him, to ride in that crazy old car of his, to admire the bright colors he painted the walls in that tiny, adorable house of his. So much changed, all for the better, and when I finally left that night after discovering the surprisingly late hour, I realized that I may have never been as happy as I was that night, in so many of those moments. I couldn’t choose one.
So many little things, little words, glances, actions.
So much is telling me to hope.
To believe.
