...In which our heroine is grateful.

I left for Cincinnati early last Tuesday, for a 7:00 AM bus. On the cab ride, the sun was just rising over Lake Shore Drive, reflecting off of the buildings, particularly well in my favorite spot of the city, just over the Chicago river. I was exhausted, but I felt so overwhelmed by how grateful I was for my city, to be going home, to see my friends. I was overwhelmed at how lucky I was to have such oppurtunities.

The feeling of exception gratitude carried throughout the week. I had a beer with my grandmother, and got whipped cream smashed in my face at El Rancho Grande for my birthday. That night, Josh came over and we had stoned conversation with my mom about chupacabras. My dad made a list of all of the Youtube videos he couldn't wait to show me. I got a tattoo - a photo of which is forthcoming, pending healing - with my very best friend in the world for 15 years, Kara.

On Thanksgiving, prompted by going through our own family photos, I got my aunt and grandmother to go through a box of my great-grandmother's photos, also forthcoming. I saw baby photos of my dad, my great-great grandparents in the holler of Hazard, Kentucky. After my cousins and I took a plate of food to my grandmother's neighbors, Jim and Tammy, I learned that they met after he rescued her from a concentration camp in WWII, and she agreed to marry him only if he agreed to bring her mother to America as well. Viall and I braved Black Friday crowds to much success, and I visited Bob Evans, with Jeannie telling me she missed me.

But Saturday - Saturday was a big day. I saw Paul for the first time in two years.

On the way down, Nate told me all I needed to give was a wink wink nudge nudge and we could exit, but I was determined to see my friends. I wasn't going to let him stop me, again, from being happy. We had been there about an hour before he arrived, and before even getting through the door, Matt had told him to leave me the fuck alone. His hand on my shoulder, I felt overwhelmed at him stepping up for me. Throughout the evening, my friends, some better than others, some who knew more than others, came up and said how well they thought I was handling things. It was odd - I was a little drunk, so my judgment may have been a little off - but Paul was just a person. Admittedly, a very troubled, obviously substance using person, but just a person. I kept catching him giving me the eye, walking in front of me, but I never said anything. I've said everything I needed to say to him.

I had great talks with old friends - Aaron, Flo, Dani, Matt, Nate, Katelyn, Kara, Paige - and I honestly could have cried with how overwhelmed I was at the love in the room.  Paul was there, but they talk to me, told me how proud they were of me, thanked me for coming. Here I was, seeing the person that hurt me the worst of anyone, and I couldn't be sad - I simply felt too loved. It was an amazing thing, and a perfect end to a great week home. After high school, I got a bit bitter about time spent with people I shouldn't have, but Saturday, all I felt was grateful.

I don't know if I'll see Paul again, and while I wish him no ill will, I can say his present circumstances are precisely what he deserves. Nate told me I won the battle, not the war, and he told me he was both glad and surprised things went as well as they did. No tears, no punches thrown. Did I want to see Paul? No. But as Andie says to her father, right before the prom in Pretty in Pink, a quote I have always looked to in the face of adversity, "I just wanted to let him know he didn't break me." He didn't.

There aren't enough words to describe how lucky and loved I felt this past week. We spend so much time thinking about the negative, I just wanted to take a moment to talk about the positives. I just registered my very first screenplay with the Writer's Guild of America, turned in my second draft of my Stephen King adaptation, saw Patti Smith today, and am giving advice to a Screenwriting II class tomorrow. Next week, I'll submit a screenplay to Columbia's screenwriting contest, and then my family will visit for their annual Christmas jaunt.

This might be too cheerful, too optimistic, but I just feel so blessed for all of these good things in my life. For you. For all you do. Tomorrow I might bitch about the 10 degree windchill, or my itchy tattoo, but I love it, all of it.

And like Mr. Ferris Bueller, I just wanted to make sure I took a moment to stop and look around for a moment at this too fast moving life of mine, and all of the wonderful people in it.