I was sitting across from my sister having lunch at this cafe I used to frequent when I lived in Albany Park. We’d gone thrifting at the Village Discount Outlet up the street earlier and were hungry when I suggested we stop in. The place has sweet memories and seeing the same waitress who’s always waited on me not to miss today only cemented my love for it.

We settled into our seats and onto our phones when I got a text that made my face drop. Tae looked up at me and said, “Oh no, we’ve got a live one.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her saying that. We ordered our food, and I talked her through the emotions and tripped over words trying to explain to her that I didn’t know what to do with my jealousy. It wasn’t just that singular emotion, though. That’d be easier.

It’s interesting to learn of the ways my dad and I are similar. We had our weekly call this morning, and he told me that he was reluctant to call me during the week in the evenings because “I don’t deal with rejection well.” He explained that he tends to turn inward quickly when I don’t answer him, and honestly, I get it. He thinks there’s something he’s done to warrant the lack of an answer. “I’m also very structured; if we agreed to do something, I’d like to think you’d remember.”

His words ran through my mind as I swallowed the loud feelings trying to jump out of my throat. I texted back a few sentences and admitted to feeling hurt but not making it louder than needed. If I want my dad to hold space for me in sometimes missing our weekly calls, I will contradict myself by not doing the same for someone I love.

When thinking about what to do with a suddenly open night, I hit up an old flame-turned-friend about their invitation to platonically kick it. I initially put it off for next month since February has felt so busy. Still, I feel like I need to do something for myself outside of the standard watching whatever limited Netflix docuseries is out (it’s Murdaugh Murders: A Southern Scandal, in case you were wondering or cared.)

They’re working, but I’ll be able to have a drink as they do and see where the night takes me.

Before hopping off, I just wanted to express some gratitude for myself for being able to tap back into writing this way. In the months I’ve been gone, I’ve still felt all of the feelings and have had all of the thoughts, but this need to edit myself, or even second guess myself in how deeply I pick apart my emotions, has taken over something fierce.

Journaling gets me through the day-to-day, but I miss writing this way. I feel like I’m writing to myself but also not. Writing to the ether.

Until next time.