Choices

Relationships, I think, last because you choose for them to. It's not a moment of dislike that ends them - because moments are fleeting. It's not suddenly losing attraction or falling "out" of love. It's waking up every day and choosing who you want in your life. Choosing over and over to care, be concerned, be a part. Choosing to love, even when it's hard. Choosing to talk when you're tired; to mail the letter, cook the dinner, wash the dishes.

It's not easy, and as life runs along it only gets harder. The choice seems easy, seems a no-brainer; but the act of following through is ever so much harder. The evidence of the chosen. The act that commits.

I think about this a lot. People who are in my life despite my folly, but whose phone calls and emails help me through days we will never discuss. Moments that will fly by and be forgotten. People who make the choice to be in my life, to have me be in theirs. It's no small feeling. In fact, it's a really wonderful feeling.

The phone ringing in the middle of the day from one friend telling me I need to tell her a funny story pronto because the heat of the southwest and the baby sleeping in the car, air-conditioning full blast, are a deadly force to deal with on her own. Or the call at night, so I can lend support as she kills a scorpian, all the while me yelling I have no idea where you are - what if something goes wrong?! And us laughing later at the absurdity of it all.

Or picking up my voicemail to hear an impormptu song about a trip to the airport. Or my cubicle-mate bringing me big boxes of koala yummies from Queens for no reason, because once, I said they were my favorite.

I sit here looking at the walls surrounding my desk, of the notes and photos and knickknacks and I feel loved.

And I wonder, where is my follow-through. Do they know it? Is it evident what I have chosen? Do I give back to them hwat they shower me with?

I promise this year to make better choices. To make them loudly and clearly, and make you feel loved. Because you do so for me. Every. Day.