Reverb 10: Only five minutes?

On the last day of November, I signed up to participate in #reverb10, a month-long challenge to blog every day of December based on prompts provided here. Here’s hoping it keeps me honest. I've dropped the ball recently, but I'm forgiving myself. Life steps in sometimes and demands attention. Anyway. Today’s prompt: December 15 5 Minutes. Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010. (Author: Patti Digh)

Two things before I start:

  • One, Patti Digh is a genius. I love her. She's where the monkey bars thing came from.
  • Two, this is a damned disaster. Give me five minutes, and I'll give you some e.e. cummings, scattered, half-to-poetic but mostly just ludicrous crap. So.

Five minutes. It would take longer than that just to get through the bad stuff. I'll try. We played Apples to Apples on New Year's. Kissed at midnight, played the guitar. Then spent the next day in our pajamas. The trouble started when we moved in together. But there were moments. I have grainy pictures of me in my purple hat, holding up some stupid tchotchke in the furniture store. Buying our bed together. Picking out drawer pulls at Anthropologie. We were planning a life together. Out of order: That first night, dragging my chair down a flight of stairs and spending 20 minutes jamming it back through the new door. Blogging in the cold and dark, feeling like I was embarking on my next big thing. Which I guess it was.

The panic attack over how short the curtains were, that was a big thing. The little bruises peppering my upper thighs because there was never enough room to get past the bed without bumping it in the night.

Then one day, I left. Took my bruises with me.

The summer of social media, the summer of indecision and heartbreak, more heartbreak. His, again, and a trail of rebounds who I still love dearly for beautiful little things. My now-friends, which isn't a euphemism. Then one day, I let go of the monkey bars. And everything was scary and free and mostly just scary, but I did it anyway.

There aren't a lot of vegetables in my life now. But I have friends. Lots of friends and lots of time.