...but not mine: I don't make resolutions.
Nick does. He did. He resolved to run a half-marathon this year. He told me so the first time I spoke with him on the phone. The funniest thing about resolutions, in my estimation, is that there's no surer way to resolve NOT to do something than when you pledge otherwise on January first.
I should have known that our darling Nicholas would not fall into such a trap. We ran companionably side-by-side for four miles this evening, and then hit the grocery store for dinner, fruit, granola...you know, healthy crap. Nutritionally sound living: it's a nasty side effect of exercise.
Groceries loaded, we were headed toward Nick's condo when he announced, "So...I finished a half-marathon today." I looked his way, feeling guilty. I didn't know he had a run today. I'm a poor friend. I stared a bit longer, feeling low, wanting details. Nick continued, "I didn't say I started it today....but I finished 'er."
So Nick's been super busy at work, going in early, staying late. Yesterday a thought, a seeming incongruence, struck.
April has been a glorious month thus far. Spring is most certainly in the air, but I know better than anyone the bullying of the Mother's day snowstorm, so I am trying not to get over excited. Last night, though, it even smelled of Spring, the misting rain, the wet soil. I exhaled deeply from my perch on the couch, relaxing into the cushions before turning to Nick. The time had come, and I would get to the bottom of this.
"Uh, Nick?" I don't know why the information was so important to me. I am going to blame my new medication. It has a slew of side effects just to make my belly stop aching including, but not restricted to, the complete inability to keep food down for an hour or two after I take it...which is every twelve hours. So...basically they're saying that if I just stop having to digest food, my stomach won't hurt. Gotcha, Boss. Anyway, I'm blaming the evil pill on this incident, I've now decided...ignore the title completely. Thanks.
Nick looked over, obviously tired and weary...and oh so meek. I hated to even insinuate that he had told me an untruth the VERY DAY we met, but it bothered me. It really, really bothered me. He's told me that this frenzied time at work will last for weeks. WEEKS. I don't know about you, but that sounds like a busy period to me. "Um, I thought you said your busy period at work was in the Spring?"
Dead silence, pointed look.
He stared a bit longer, then glanced toward the mid-sixties April rain shower beyond the window pane.
"It iiiiiis."
"But why is it so busy n—" Oh.
Stupid medicine. Stupid, stupid.
This was taken last Sunday, one of the first times I've seen Charlie since Mom passed away. I will always see his gentle fingers caressing her cheek the morning she went into a coma...and he is beautiful to me.
 "click to enlarge")
