Where’d all the good people go?

Yep. It’s Friday evening and I’m posting. But before anyone feels sorry for me or imagines me in a lonely place, let me explain.

Once again, I’m reveling in the people I’m lucky enough to know, lucky enough to come from.

Going into a weekend, I’m completely aware of the subtle network that doesn’t want me to feel alone; is gently making sure I’m ok. There’s a web there, with silky soft threads:

Morning phone calls on my commute to work; allison’s one-year old just woke up and he’s fussy because he bumped his teeth again or something; he’s making a ruckus but she called because she wants to measure my tone, see if I’m ok, wants to remind me of the time in sixth grade when we decided to make our own haunted house on a Friday just like this one

scott on vacation, visiting high school friends; sending a message to say they’re thinking of me and how we used to go to breakfast before school on Fridays

My former boss, who called on her way to services to “check in” and see if there are any holes in my weekend, if I might like to see a movie, take her daughter clothes shopping, come over for dinner

My current boss, who carefully asks about my plans for the weekend; trying to decide if I need to feel some pressure to work, some grounded urgency, or if I’m better off thinking about haircuts and farmers markets

colleague who knows just when to send a stress-breaking laugh-out-loud one-liner

My best friend, who has a toothbrush and pjs ready for me whenever I want a sleepover. Who gives me fall recipes and makes itineraries for perfect Sundays of lounging and chatting. Who sent a package of apples and snacks to my office, carefully packed in a box for Friday delivery

My husband’s sister, who misses having me to squeal at her outrageousness, support her fast decisions and approve of her shopping addiction, calling to say let’s have lunch, we don’t need to mention my brother

Then, there are the people that don’t even know they are part of my halo:

Colleagues who make having pizza for lunch on Friday feel like a party, the day before Christmas vacation.

The guy at my gym who calls me miss jess, looks like a gazelle, is slowly becoming an anonymous friend who knows my hours and routines, what I wear every day, how long it takes me to get in and out of the gym, which candies I pick out of the pumpkin candy dish at the front desk, and that I don’t have a dog (but he has a golden retriever named nano); who isn’t aware, as I am, that I used to wear a ring on the hand that I use to hand him my id but someday might hear about it in passing; ‘I’m divorced’

The teen girls in front of me at cvs buying lipgloss and talking about Trevor.

The new girl at work who recorded desperate housewives for me because she knows I don’t have cable yet, who loves going to the movies and wants to see all the same new releases I do

Tonight I’m headed home to be alone. To burn pumpkin candles and make my apartment feel like home. To try my new recipe and see how it smells. To go through the mail. To wear flannel pants that have been boxed up for a year. To realize that a week like this one doesn’t have to end with my husband. I can be alone without being lonely