For the last few months I have been (first) texting and (second) talking on the phone with someone who was my first love. I have known this person since age 15. I have not seen him for 25 years. We connected again at the end of 2006, quite by accident.
Our conversations are interesting. We have talked about everything you can imagine and more. It has been fun.
We knew one anothers' Mothers. His is in a skilled nursing facility and has dementia. Of course, you know about my Mother. We have supported one another in this caregiving journey.
Over the past 3 months, we have had many, many 3-hour phone conversations. Even when we only intend to have a quick check-in call, we can end up talking until someone's phone battery begins to beep.
He lives in Seattle. He is arriving in St. Paul tomorrow night for a four day visit. Yep, arriving Wednesday evening = departing Sunday afternoon. He is staying in my home. He offered to get a hotel room but that seems silly as I have a lovely guest room with its own bath.
I have intense feelings. Some are about dishonoring my husband. But wait, my husband is dead and he has been dead for more than two and one half years. The ambivalent feelings have roiled around inside for months.
Yesterday, I decided that I am just going to relax and enjoy the weekend ahead. Life moves forward. I am alive.