One Man's Trash...

You know how the saying goes.

I've been talking to an old friend lately, and he told me he's always had a thing for me. He said I was the type of girl that puts men at ease.

He's brilliant. He can quote Hume and Tolstoy from memory. He thinks it's cute when I get all excited about a book. He wears tweed blazers with elbow patches. He's currently attending law school and his mind is like this wonderful, analytical tool. Talking to him is just so....stimulating.

Recently I had someone tell me I "put too much emphasis on intelligence." So, I thought about it.... and I think they were exactly right, I do, but that doesn't mean I'm changing my ways. When it comes down to it: looks fade, jokes get old, and I can buy them new clothes or cologne; but when I'm 85 years old and laying next to the man I've chosen to spend my life with and we can't move too well because of arthritis or a bum hip we're going to talk. Talking is one of my favorite things, and I can't imagine spending my whole life with someone who can't keep up with me. I'm not looking for a prized possession. I'm not chasing a feeling. I'm looking for the other part of a two-person team. A mind is something you are born with, something you always have. Sure, you can read all the right books and say all the right things (I've been fooled by that pseudo intellectualism before) but to be truly brilliant is something that can't be cultivated or faked, and I deserve the truly brilliant.

Anyway, so Law School knows, as it seems everyone does, about the monumental wretchedness that has been my Winter Quarter. My personal life, my family life, and my school life were all utter disasters and even a department joke. I just couldn't catch a break like I can't ever catch the morning shuttle. My friend Janet once said to me that "Men are like trolleys, there's always another one coming." Well, if men are like the shuttle I take to school they're totally unreliable and you might as well just keep on walking.

Now I'm standing here with my protective walls all broken and cracked trying to sift through the rubble for anything of value.

I told Law School the whole ordeal made me feel disposable.

He said, "You're not disposable, you're essential."

I almost cried because it was exactly what I needed to hear.

I don't know if I want to get into something right now. Right now I just need to see hay bales and the sun setting over the lake. I need the sound of tires on a gravel road and a sky full of stars. I need to see Ma's face to know she's really okay, and that we're going to make it because we always do. I need to hug her fragile little body and tell her I'm sorry it took me so long.

I need to go home.

But, oh, to be another man's treasure......That just might get me by until then.