talk

When I was about 4 years old the son of my mother's best friend told everyone that he would never marry me because I talked too much.

I don't know what his problem was but literally no one in my life since has accused me of talking too much because I'm really very quiet. On road trips my parents used to joke that maybe they'd left me behind at a gas station because they wouldn't hear from me for hours. I'd much rather have my head buried in a book than talk.

Even Taz thought I was pretty quiet but I know now that whenever I did feel like talking, he was the one I talked to and I miss that so much. I miss talking about silly stuff and I miss talking about the problems of the world. We had such interesting discussions. I miss talking about food and what to do on our next vacation and politics and the next big fashion trend (he could be such a girl sometimes) and how much we wanted to live in California again and music and books and pretty much everything two people could talk about. I must admit that I don't miss talking about money because that was never a fun discussion. LOL

Sometimes I feel like I'm going a little crazy because there's no one to talk to.

And I miss talking about him. I have so many stories, so many memories and there's no one to talk to about them.

But I know that if I started talking about him, I would end up crying pretty quickly. And that's kind of what I would really like right now - someone to cry with.

A lot of the books I've read recently deal with widows, it's not on purpose, I don't go seeking that type of story out. I think it's just an overused plotline these days. But anyway, in all my books the heroine ends up crying and someone gathers her up in his arms (because it's always a guy she's talking to) and just holds her while she cries into his chest and gets it all out.

But that's not real life, is it?