On Friday, I went back and forth all day about whether I wanted to go to a thing that evening in Middletown.
In the morning, I was all “Sure, why not?” But as the day wore on, my list of reasons not to go grew: I’ve never been before. I’m not sure exactly WHAT this thing is, WHERE it is or WHO will be there. I’m supposed to bring a dish to share and I don’t know what to bring. Who eats that late anyway?
All this internal wrangling, it wasn’t really about the event. It was a choice between retreating and venturing out to be among people.
Wally arrived home looking forward to going. Since it was his birthday, I decided not to have a big discussion about it. I went.
Later, seated among faces both familiar and unfamiliar, we sang Christmas carols. It was very relaxing, very nice, very non-threatening. I was glad we’d gone. And on top of everything, someone had a 7-week-old Yorkiepoo, looking out at all of us with wonder.
I have no idea why these things always seem like such tremendously big decisions to me.