Chuckles n' Me

I ended up going for that run. Staggered to my feet under the weight of spectacular inertia and pulled on my shorts and shoes. I ran the ridiculously beautiful streets of Portland's Irvington district, dodging giant flowers and trees so unbelievably fertile it was like they were showing off. Look at us! They seemed to yell. We are alive, get it?! Gloriously, shamelessly ALIIIIIIIVE!

I realized I haven't been very nice to myself for the past month.

I am such an overachiever it's stupid. But what happens when I get 'overachievy' is that I end up paralyzed. Which is really not-at-all-achievy. It's sit on the couch and drooly, actually. And when I look back on May, I can see a hundred ways I've made life difficult for myself. I've resisted every single thing that has come along. Whatever the opposite of 'going with the flow' is...that's me.

Running, though, is my magic bullet. It is 100% guaranteed to make me feel better. (So are Stumptown Coffee Company lattes and chewy chocolate cookies. If I happen to be in the Portland area. Which I am. Yesssssss.)

After the gorgeous run and orgasmic latte, I decided to just relax. I sat down to write. Charlie was there, waiting. She took at drag of her cigarette and looked at me.

"Dude," she said. "Don't get your knickers in a knot."
"I know," I said, embarrassed. I didn't think she'd noticed.
"I'm just fucked up about my dad. I'm trying to figure it out, okay? That's all."

She shook her head and ground her cigarette out with a toe. "Walk with me," she said, turning. I followed her as she tried to figure out exactly, scientifically how her father died. She went to the coroner's office to look at the death certificate. And then she talked to the coroner himself.

She went all CSI and I couldn't help but say, "Charlie, he's dead. What does it matter?" She shook her head and said, "No. Shut up. I need to figure this out." She walked faster. As I ran to catch up, I thought she should be dealing with the emotions of it, not the logistics. But then, of course, it struck me. These details were protecting her from feeling the pain of losing someone. For a little while at least.