Wrapped.

"We really need to talk about something important, okay?"

My youth looks at me, blue eyes open and earnest, and I consider what I'm about to say. I wonder if it'll come off as bitterness accumulated from disappointments, wisdom from a rough road traveled, or just pretentious bullshit. So, I cut out all the extra that I had planned on saying and told her simply:

"We've talked about your plans, and I'm so happy you have them, and that they're different and changing and shifting. They SHOULD be. You're 17. But they're all dependent on the presence of another person, and I just want you to know something that has helped me get through life: Ultimately, the only person you can depend on is yourself."

She nodded, and I saw in her eyes that she understood. She explained that she knew that, but everyone around her doesn't practice it (except me), and she felt weird being so independent.

"Everything is weird in high school. It's a foul, evil, shitty stage of life. A lot of important stuff happens in the next ten years, so pay attention to it. Remember who you are, and who you want to be. Stay strong. The rest will fall into place."

She got teary and hugged me, and as we walked into the store to go snow globe hunting, she held on tightly, wrapped around my ribs and making me feel like a lioness with her cub.

I've had such a weird week. I got a gnarly head cold, wasn't able to move to where I'd planned, and my dog got sick. I dreamt that I murdered my mom's abusive boyfriend from my childhood one night, and that I got proposed to at a Mumford and Sons concert the next. During "After the Storm" even, my favorite song. Which leads me to an interesting seque...

I had a weird dream two weeks ago where I saw, clear as day, that I was a nurse in an ER and a widowed architect with a young daughter who thought she could fly from trees came in. Wham bam, date, proposal, the whole thing. And the only reason this makes me quirk an eyebrow at all is because I've pretty fully accepted my singlehood in the recent months. Not hoping, not looking, not interested. And then my subconscious wants to what...bitch slap me? Remind me that I'm a few years shy of 30 and extremely childless? I'm not thrilled.

I'm watching Love Actually and got a Charlie Brown Christmas tree tonight. That's pretty much the extent of my holiday spirit, two days before the holiday. More importantly, 6 days from now I'll be home, and that's the true gift of the season.

Hey. If you're reading this, there's a high chance I love you, so here's looking at you kid.