I would be lying if I said I didn’t violently toy with regretting our move to Massachusetts in 2016, but it does me no good to dwell on it. Instead, I pry open the guilt that shadows our time in Mass, and pick out the good that was in our five years there, but that’s for another post. Instead, I will talk about the future and not the past. Thanks to a busy morning, I was given some glimpses into the future by Max.
The two of us had some errands to run today and our individual Weight Watcher victories to celebrate so we ended our travels at Camino Real in Wallace. Over veggie burritos, chips, and white cheese, we talked about our future.
“Do you ever see yourself dating again?” he asked me.
Because we were new to Massachusetts, then COVID hit, and now we’re new to this part of North Carolina, each of our dating lives are nonexistent.
“Ha ha no. I don’t want to start anything new,” I said.
Knowing Max will start meeting new people at college and go on dates, I asked him, “Where will you go on your first date with someone?”
“Probably nowhere with nachos,” he said, smiling as the white cheese from his tortilla chip threatened to travel down his arm. “They’re too messy.”
“You can take smaller bites. They’re actually an easy food to eat on a first date,” I said. (I should have added that after a second or third date, it’s fun to have messy nachos as your comfort zone widens with the new person.)
“I think it would be best to go somewhere you know,” I said.
“Yea, like Subway,”
I’m biased, of course, but any girl will be lucky to have a first date with Max at Subway. He’s so kind and just plain old good.
Our family’s tree branches slowed their growth for some time, but are now climbing and reaching like morning glories in May, causing us to inch a tad farther away from each other each day, just a little. It’s slightly sour, but oh so sweet. We’re not supposed to stay stagnant and trapped in a safe bubble, and although I embrace our growth, please God let it go slowly.
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