Alright, here I am, and here is the rant.
I’ve been wrestling with a decision. I spoke with my mother over tea this morning, sipping cucumber white (I didn’t even know until last night that such a flavor even existed) from my ‘I Heart Branson’ mug that I bought at The Mansion Theatre when we went to see Tim Conway perform. And I asked her suddenly if there would be a lot of conflict and resistance from her if I decided to leave Texas. I was expecting an hour-long lecture on my naiveté and how dangerous it would be and how no other state compares to Texas. But instead she looked suddenly looked at me with a facial expression of utter perplexity, and said she would never stand in the way of something that I wanted to do.
I know she wants me to stay home and go to TCC (Tarrant County College,) because it’s just what people do around here. And the whole thing sounds very pleasant. I could work at The Book Carriage (one of my favorite places on the face of the planet – wait, no, one of my favorite places in the universe – wait, no, one of my favorite places in the potential multiverse) take a few classes and get to see Heather frequently. And suppose my godchild is born in the next few years, I’ll get to see her (or him.) I know Heather doesn’t want me to leave, she’s my closest, most trusted friend. And I wouldn’t leave if she wasn’t getting married.
Oh, bother, I don’t know what I’ll think about any of this even tomorrow. But that talk we had at the lake sparked something in me and now the thought of going elsewhere won’t leave my mind. And after this morning’s talk with my mother that rid me of my fears that leaving would cause a rift in our relationship, it seems like such a bright option. I suppose the way it feels at the moment, is that the chapter I’m living in now is about to be over, there is no essential reason for me to stay, and with this realization that I will no longer need to be here, I feel horribly impatient to leave.
“You’ll just get tired of the weather, you won’t like the cold after a few months.” Mom said, stirring her tea as I brought up the two states I had in mind.
I spoke carefully, “I don’t have any affection left for the Texas heat. I never liked it much to begin with. I love the rain and snow and being cold.”
“You’ll hate the snow.”
“I hate the heat.”
She stared at the counter, expressionless. I had come downstairs with a plan of action. To keep the tone lighthearted, to remind her how much I love her, and to get her on my team.
I could never expect her to wholeheartedly agree with me on this one, but I was endlessly grateful for the green light I had been given. I walked over to her and hugged her for the fifth time that hour.
“I love you, mom.”
She mumbled what I should hope was ‘I love you, too.’ and started unloading the dishwasher.
I went upstairs to my room and saw a new text-message from Heather Madame on my phone. I presented the idea to her again, throwing in certain things about the cities that we both love. Like hiking trails, downtowns with antique shops, bookstores with clearance shelves and little cafes. Above all others, Heather has been the most supportive person in my life since I’ve known her, but the entire notion of me leaving is a special circumstance. She has stopped suggesting TCC, but her replies are leaning neither for or against the idea. I never would have thought Heather Madame, aka Watson, Bubbelz, Macho Taco and Heather Weather would ever completely be on my mother’s side about anything. My mother still doesn’t completely accept Heather’s role as best friend, even after five years.
It has been an extremely difficult day for many reasons, and perhaps all this is, is just fight-or-flight kicking in and swaying my thinking into making me believe that I truly want to leave when, beyond the tension, I want to stay.
But at this moment, I can honestly say I cannot imagine staying.
When me and Heather were thirteen, we created a plan that we were certain would spell out our lives. We were going to go to the same college, split the rent for an apartment, go on double dates and cry to each other when we’d get hurt by some dummy who would break one of our hearts, we’d go out on the town every weekend and watch movies late into the night, help each other study and go on little adventures like we always did ever since we first met, we’d eventually meet a couple of nice guys and get married at about the same time. It sounds silly now, but it was our ultimate dream back then. Less than a year later, Heather Madame met Sir Carlisle, and less than two weeks after that, they realized they were meant to be together. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t been witness to the whole thing.
“You won’t believe what he just said in the chat!” Heather whispered excitedly. Me and Rye were on a three-way call with Heather one night about a week after she met Carlisle and started messaging him through Facebook.
“What is it?!” Rye asked.
“Certain people are in the room,” which usually meant her parents, “So I can’t say.”
A song popped into my head and I started humming ‘I Think I Love You’.
“That’s it!” Heather squealed.
“I think I love you?” I asked.
“Yes! Dang it, Hannah!”
It was apparently Rye’s turn to squeal, and I only wished I was witness to whatever happy dance I was certain Heather was doing.
Alright, I’ve managed to lose about three hours typing all of this. But my goal has been reached – I feel a bit better and my mind is spinning less. I really should get back to the books.
On Saturday I’m going to give my laptop to Heather for a week or two, and rely on the computers at the local library (which is also one of my most favorite places in the potential multiverse,) so I may not post again for a short while. But then, who am I really kidding? I can hardly go an hour without writing something on a nearby surface, and never half a month without at least typing up a draft of a post.
Until I Write Again,