I'm No Good with an Alias

I am no good with an alias.  I am not one to hide.  It made writing here feel unauthentic. The false name chafed at my strict "honesty policy."  So basically, I'm back.

Me.

The me who loves nothing better than a good book, a jar of nutella and a snuggle from my Brinkle. The one who has a habit of traveling without plans, and rearranging her furniture at the drop of a  hat. The one who regards her blog (and readers) as her best friend and confidant.

Little Things, Like Snowflakes

This morning I awoke to the palest light floating in through cream curtains.  This is a distinct light, and it only ever means one thing:  snow.  I crack the blinds and I am greeted by a new world.  Everything is pristine, blanketed white.  This is the kind of morning I love best.  Tomorrow, or perhaps even later today, that snow will melt away to unveil an avalanche of mud.  But right now?  Right now the world is clean and shining.  Right now I can curl up in my bed with Pandora and my laptop, and ignore all the problems buried in the snowfall.

Later today I'll be meeting a few members of the clan for our standard coffee date at a locally owned cafe.  We do this every Saturday around 11.  We have a usual order and a usual table, and each week whichever of us are available show up to swap stories and sip on sweet, warm drinks.  We rarely leave our corner before 2.  Today it'll be Tom, Leanne and I.  We'll have enormous white mochas in thick, sturdy mugs, and whatever pastries look delicious, and we'll curl into our seats until we become part of the scenery.  I love this.  I love our group, and our town, our coffee shop.

Introducing the Clan, Part I: The Story of Carlie and Rylie

It's late fall 2010, and Rylie and I are speeding down the interstate.  The back seat of my Saturn is full of brightly colored bags as we head home from a spontaneous shopping trip.  We've been laughing so long that we can't remember what was funny, and as we near our exit I say, "What if we didn't stop?  What if we just kept driving?"

"Do it!  Can we?  We should do it!"  Rylie is always up for an adventure.

So I floor it.  We pass our exit, and the next one, and dozens more after that.  An hour later my cheeks ache from smiling, and my sides are sore from so much laughter.  We don't stop driving until we cross the Tennessee state line.

The Family We Choose

During my last quarter hour at work, my cell phone buzzes incessantly.  I am positively bombarded by messages from my roommates.  They text to make sure I'll be home on time, to ask if I remembered to put oil in my car, or to make dinner plans. We're always checking in on each other this way.

My shifts usually run latest, so when I arrive home the whole gang is assembled in the living room.

New Beginnings

My name is Carlie.  I'm not sure how to begin my story, but lately life has been beautifully unpredictable, and I can't let it slip by undocumented.

For the past four years, I lived out the greatest love story I had ever known.  When I was nineteen I married my high school sweetheart, and moved to Germany with him for twenty-seven months.  He was a soldier, and moving away was easy for me, because home was where he was.  We explored castles and roamed the Bavarian Alps.  It felt like a fairy tale, but we missed home.  Then, when we finally came back to the states and my world was on the brink of perfection, my sweet, loving husband left me.  He told me he wanted a divorce while sitting in my car in a WalMart parking lot.  There was no warning and no explanation.  It's been nine weeks.  I still don't understand how he could give up something so precious so easily, and yet I've stopped looking for answers.  Understanding what happened wouldn't change it.  I won't waste even one more second feeling lost or hurt, because for four years I was happy.  I had adventures.  I did nothing I regret.