Good things in life.

It's been a month, now, and I have not been doing well at transitioning gracefully back to being single. In the last several days, however, things have been turning around, and I'm excited enough to want to share. So. Here are a couple of stories, in order, of things that have made me smile.

Last week a random girl around my age stopped me, in the locker room at the pool, to ask if my hair is naturally this color and tell me she loved it. And, naturally, that is quite flattering to hear--brown is not generally admired, unless you have got some crazy curls or other outstanding feature to go along with it. This girl, however, loved it enough to snap a few pictures for her stylist to color-match. I noticed that she seemed eager to talk, but I was feeling rather anti-social, so we went our separate ways. Several days ago, however, I ran into her again, in the same place. We struck up a conversation, and it turned out that she's dating a 4th year med who is on away rotation right now. She seemed lonely. And very sweet. I offered to swap numbers because neither of us like to go to church alone, and she accepted. That's a pretty big deal for me, making a new friend. It doesn't happen easily.

On Monday, our orientation let out early, giving us a couple of hours to study before going to the sim lab to practice birthing babies with the models (SO. MUCH. WEIRD. FUN.). As I left, I overheard some of my classmates talking about getting coffee and studying together. One of them was Lisa; super sweet and pretty, a great sense of humor--I enjoy her very much. I remembered walking out and wishing I had friends like that, here. When I got home to study, however, I found that the landlords had a crew in to replace the carpet upstairs. Besides the ungodly racket, they were also playing Spanish music at full volume. I was craving chips and salsa in about three minutes, besides harboring homicidal thoughts, so I texted Lisa and asked if I could join her study group. Honestly, it was super fun, and the most normal I've felt in a very long time. I've missed being in a group like that, and I'm excited about hanging out with them more, possibly. Another big step for me.

This morning, I was standing out in the hospital hallway with a flock of 3rd years just waiting for orientation. We remind me of a bunch of ducklings--it's almost absurdly funny. Anyway, I was looking down and twirling a folder in my hands, and somebody gripped my upper arm. I looked up, and it's Dr. Lavery smiling at me. He's an attending for NICU, and probably the best physician I've worked with since I've been in medical school. He gave me a "Good morning!" and left me laughing behind him. It meant a lot to me that he would stop me and get my attention just to say hello.

There's more. I'll write about it later. I was just on my feet for 15 hours and I am exhausted.

Tennessee fall

This day is the sort where I wish I were back at Southern, in the early autumn when the rains have begun but the leaves aren't quite changed and falling. The sort of day when it's been raining already, all through the night, waking you up to thunder prowling around the hills and the promise of more rain, and yet more, falling slow until the sky seeps into the ground and fills the creeks and puddles to reflect back to itself. The kind of grey sky that keeps to itself but never relents, simply changing shades as the days moves onward. I wish it were the sort of day for jeans and boots and hoods, hot drinks and warm blankets, quiet slow sleepy conversations, and movies and books and cooking and the sound of rain coming through the open windows.

I wish it were that sort of day, because it is only on those days that I find being lonely to be bearable. When the day feels darker and cooler, than the need for comfort is appreciated--reflection is elicited--quiet is natural under the sound of the rain. Not so, here. Not when every day is relentlessly sunny and the heat drives even the most fervent of outdoor enthusiasts to hover over their AC--loneliness is so much harder when the outside is so damned bright. Where you look out the window and the disconnect is so large it doesn't seem possible to reconcile. Grief doesn't fit into these California days, and I find myself hating the juxtaposition. Just now, I wish for home and rain.