Unexpected Reflection

Springfield, Illinois. I’m in a dock at a customer, being unloaded. I left yesterday morning at 10:00 and drove all day (and night), broken up by a few short sleep periods. Altogether this trip was over 1,000 miles. Being this far out of the company’s usual freight lanes (and delivering early this morning) means my next trip should be a long one, too. That translates into a good week and another nice paycheck. I like that. I’m finally building up a little money in the bank in spite of Christmas.
Well, there’s no real reason for writing. I have a headache. Just sitting here in the truck, watching traffic on Jefferson Street, and wondering where they’ll send me next. There’s a certain excitement in the air because it’s the week before Christmas. It may be half-hearted, but I’m looking forward to the holiday. Or at least I’m looking forward to being off for three days. Although I probably shouldn’t say that. I might not get in until Saturday then.
I’ve been thinking about Loretta a lot. She was all about Christmas, and her excitement was infectious. How we could use that this year. But then, her absence is part of the melancholy.
I actually don’t miss Mara. Our last talk left me feeling like a damned fool for even trying to stay in touch with her. She always makes me feel like she thinks I’m pursuing her or something, and I always walk away from our encounters feel dishonored and foolish. Well, according to friends who keep tabs on her MySpace page (all as part of chronicling the saga, I guess, and which I really wish they’d stop), Mara has a new boyfriend. Her last boyfriend is now dating her friend, Heather. And I just keep thinking to myself “what a tangled web we weave …”
The last talk and the latest news has settled things for me. I’m no longer the least bit interested in even remaining friendly. All my efforts in that regard has gotten me has been disrespect. So I think when I send Mara her modest Christmas present (just a CD), it will be a parting gift.
2007 is a chance to move on. I plan to do so without looking back. I’ve spent far too much of my energy this year pouring salt into my wounds and whining about the pain. Next year will be all about getting out of this truck for good and moving on. Time to go back to being me and stop being who I’ve been forced to be. Time to stop day-dreaming and to find out if there’s really something there, after all.

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