A Challenge....

***Warning: I am beyond tired...read at your own risk.***

The train car is crowded. People have spent the evening out on the town and now the car has the lingering scent of alcohol. I sit alone on my bench. My headset is playing the classics of the 70’s and a book is in my hand. Unfortunately, none of this does me any good as I cannot focus. I am distracted by the indescribable emotion that has settled lately; an emotion that neither my latest thriller nor Dilbert can seem to break through.

Yesterday, the traffic on my blog doubled due to the comment left by anonymous. The girl mafia, of course, read the new comment and the old comments and I have been given quite a bit of advice on the situation. Steph says I should just ignore it therefore teaching Mr. Anonymous that he shouldn’t play the anonymous card. Meg and Sarah have cautioned me to be careful; you never know what type of people you will find on the internet after all. Jer went over our connected past, trying to help me find a link somewhere. (He did give me a possibility, but who knows if the clue is helpful). Ben, while not a member of the girl mafia was the most adamant about his opinion, lol! He says I should tell Mr. Anonymous to “put up or shut up”. He comments go hand in hand with those from Meg using the phrase “mystery schmystery.” Personally, my curiosity is still peaked.

As with the first posting by Mr. Anonymous, the door to the memories of my past has cracked open and the flood of memories will not be stopped. Spending an evening dancing with Drew in my backyard with one objective…who knew it would take hours to get a boy to kiss me. Sheesh! The drama of my high school years, sick family, fights with Drew, trips to Florida, dances, lunches, swing sets, trees that were climbed. The night I spent talking with Adam; literally talking until dawn. The morning I took the ill-fated trip to Sqaw Peak with ‘he who shall forever remain nameless’. There are a parade of faces, some which I can place with a name to and some I cannot, from school, work, church, and other random places. Ahhhhh…the follies of youth, especially the thinking that it would always be so easy.

The cynical side of me tells me that the man that you see almost every morning is NOT someone that I would be happy to run into. There are only 3 men in my past that I never want to see again. (I figure after 28 yrs 3 major regrets isn’t so bad, right?) Every one of them was “charming” AND I really don’t want to hear that any of them look "good" at this point. I would prefer that they are going bald with a fat paunch, thank you very much. Lol! I figure I am no more then a speed bump in their histories.

The curious side says to find out more. I really, really want to know who you are and who you see….

The third side is the most cynical. It tells me that this is all a fake story created to show my naiveté. It wouldn’t be the first time that I was taken in by the slick story of a stranger, believing that he was being honest with me.

Yet as I have remembered all of these things, the highs and lows of all of my relationships/friendships/school-girl crushes, one emotion has lain like a light film over all of the others: Fear.

As one who tries never to give into fear but to face it instead, I choose to take Ben’s advice: Who are you? And where do I know you from?

I’ll expect an answer in another 10 months when you get back to my blog. Lol!