of activity. After Meghan drops off Sammy and dashes to her interview, I pull out the ingredients to make us a snack. I teach her how to slice strawberries and squeeze whipped cream on top. Bowls in hand, we plop down in front of the TV for a movie. Halfway through—and with the competition tomorrow—I pull my climbing bag close and dump out all the gear to repack it fresh.
Sammy immediately starts to investigate. “What’s this?” She holds up my chalk bag.
“It’s a bag of chalk that you use on your hands when climbing. Want to feel inside?”
She nods excitedly and I let her slide a hand in. She giggles at the soft, squishy feel of the silky powder then pushes her other hand through the felt opening. “Why do you have a toothbrush on the side?”
“That’s actually a chalk brush.” I pull it loose and show her how it works by brushing the end of her shoe. She laughs again, and with the brush in hand, she starts scrubbing a dozen different spots around my apartment.
After giving her a tour of everything else in the bag, I ask if she wants to help me pack. Movie forgotten, she nods again.
“Okay.” I open up the store-bought tub of chalk and show her how to hold it steady as we pour more of the white powder into my cloth bag. We cinch it closed together so that it won’t leak inside my backpack. “Go ahead and put the bag back in. But wait!” I pause for dramatic affect. “What are we missing?!”
Her eyes and mouth go wide. “The toothbrush!”
I laugh. “Chalk brush, silly. And yes! Do you remember how it attaches?”
Her little fingers slide it back into place.
“Perfect.”
She claps her hands, adding a puff of dust to the air that we both fan away with giggles.
Together, we slide a few more necessities into the pack including a roll of finger tape and some extra hair ties. I fill two water bottles to the brim and cap them off, then Sammy loads them in with everything else. Finally, each of us clips one of my climbing shoes to the carabiner on the outside handle.
With the basics done, I fetch a few easy snacks from the pantry to round out my supplies for the competition. The event lasts much of the day, so protein bars and several fruit leathers will be quick and easy fuel between boulders.
With all that set, I lean my bag beside the front door. “Ready for some mac and cheese?”
“Yes!” Sammy jumps up and down.
“Would you rather help me or finish your movie?”
After giving me a high-five, she dashes back to the movie. Meanwhile, I set a pot of water to boil. I’ve just finished reading the directions on the back of the macaroni box when my phone rings. It’s Britt.
I answer and tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Hey, Britt. How’s it going?”
“Good! I wanted to check in about tomorrow. I’ve pulled up the gym location and just want to verify that it’s the one called Rock Central.”
“That’s the one!” I cast a glance to Sammy to make sure she’s still doing well.
“And what time does it start? I don’t want to be late.”
It’s so sweet that she’s coming. How I hope my parents might be able to come as well. Hopefully Eleni will be there too. “It starts at one o’clock.” Though I have to get there quite a bit earlier. “It means so much that you’re coming. Oh, and there’s an entrance fee of $5 for spectators.” I wince, having completely forgotten to mention that part.
“Oh, I think I can swing that.” She laughs. “But hey, I need to tell you something.”
“What’s up?” I shimmy the box of noodles before dumping them into the steaming water.
“Well, it might be $10 because I was thinking about bringing someone along. But he’s already insisted on paying.”
I clap a hand over my mouth then quickly have to lower it. “Oh my gosh! Is it the guy from the hike?”
Britt laughs on the other end of the phone. “It is! Are you sure that’s okay?”
“Are you kidding? I think it’s wonderful! I’m really happy that you guys are hanging out more and want to hear all about how this happened.” Wooden spoon in hand, I swirl it through the boiling noodles.
Britt explains that she and Daniel visited for over an hour after church on Sunday. He even walked her across the street where they got smoothies together. “Sadie, he’s super nice and down-to-earth. We agreed to enjoy getting to know one another as friends. So I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but he’s reached out several times. When he asked if I was free Saturday to do something, I told him about the event. I went ahead and asked if he’d like to join me and he does!”
I’m grinning so hard it hurts. “This is really fun news and I think you guys are smart to enjoy the process of getting to know one another.” There’s that shadow of fear behind me—the one that worries Britt’s heart could get broken at the end of this. But she’s willing to take a risk. I’m proud of her for being brave. I hope it turns out well, and no matter the outcome, this is going to be another chapter of her own life story. “Britt, I can’t wait to see you both there. Are you nervous?”
“Probably more than you are!”
We both giggle. “Keep me posted on everything, and once the competition is over, you better be calling to tell me how the day went for you two.”
“I promise I will. Thanks, Sadie, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”
After we hang up, I strain the noodles, then mix in butter, milk, and cheese mix. At times I’ve felt a twinge of jealousy over other single friends having this kind of news. Over knowing that something is brewing on their behalf, while my good fortune just hasn’t shown up yet. But either it’s different because it’s Britt, or I’m slowly recognizing that good fortune is all around me. I hope it’s some of both.
But I’m also human . . .
So, with a slow sigh, I acknowledge the twinge of sadness at Britt’s announcement. It’s nothing against her! Just this deep longing to have the same chance. To make the same announcement. To call a friend and have guy news to giggle over. It starts as a sweep of tightness in the back of my throat. I try and swallow it away but now an ache is bubbling up in my chest. No, no, no. I cannot be jealous. I cannot feel pain just because Britt is feeling so much happiness.
I swallow hard, trying to shove it all away. Deep breath, Sadie. You have so much to be thankful for. And it’s good to get to be happy for others.
The ache in my chest lingers, but it eases some. Keep going . . .
God has a plan for me too. It just looks different. Hey, look at all the cool things I’ve gotten to do lately. The new people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and interacting with. Blessings are abounding if I keep focusing on the right things and stay mindful of all that truly matters.
I let out a sigh and with it, whisper a tiny apology to my dear friend Britt, who would probably only hug me tight if she knew the twinge in my heart.
Once the noodles are drained, I toss them with the thickening cheese sauce then pull two bowls from the cupboard. Not wanting to get mac and cheese on my bed, I bring the bowls to the floor where Sammy and I sit side by side, eating and enjoying the rest of her movie. And by the time Meghan returns to collect her, I’m scrubbing cheese sauce from the pan and listening to a fresh patter of rain on the windows. Other than that, my studio apartment is so quiet. Water drips from the eaves outside. Calypso sits on an armchair, peering out of the brightening glass. The clock ticks on the wall. I slowly dry the pot with a towel. Set the pot aside. Hang the towel up.
Do not feel it, Sadie. Do not feel it.
But it’s coming. The rush of loneliness. Of how still and empty my apartment feels again. I think of Sammy heading back to her usual life. I think of Britt probably texting back and forth with Daniel this evening.
Tears sting the back of my eyes.
Do not cry.
Desperate to distract myself, I start tidying up. I’m thirty-two and single. This probably sounds silly. It probably seems crazy that here I am, this far into my journey—making all kinds of new goals and exploring new adventures—and that I can still circle right back to the beginning and simply ache.
But I really do have to remind myself that I’m human, and that it’s okay for it to hurt. It’s just not okay for me to despair—or worse, get bitter.
With the sunny glow returning outside, I cram dirty laundry into the washing machine. That way I’ll have a clean pair of leggings and a fresh top for tomorrow. And then when it's done . . .when I've finished going through all the motions I can think of, I try not to wonder what it would be like if I hadn’t blocked Seth. If his voice and some shred of companionship were only seven digits away. Instead, I take charge of what is healthier for me in this life. I can choose to make the best decisions I can. I can choose to cherish the here and now. I can choose to be patient with deep-rooted desires.
On a whim, and with nervous energy stirring inside, I grab a hat and my backpack and lace up hiking boots in record time. I need some air and sky. With it a few hours to dark, I head outside and down the soggy walking path, taking the familiar steps to the park. But instead of hanging up my hammock near the river as usual, I follow the narrow trail around the edge. People venture down here for the best fishing spots or to explore along the shoreline. Today, I press farther than usual.
In the distance, boulders rise from the water’s edge, curtained by trees on both sides. I breathe in deeply of the evergreen air that’s richer and bolder after the rain. Damp soil is soft beneath my boots and my hat catches lingering droplets that spring from piney branches. Squirrels chatter to one another from up high, celebrating the clearer skies. In the distance, a hawk swoops out across the water just as a breeze tries to nip my hat. I hold it down, absorbing the beauty all around.
There’s something about the boulder that calls to me. No doubt because of all the excitement over the past few weeks. The top of the lower one is easy to access, so I scamper up one side. It’s an easy scale—one that kids can do as they’re out playing. With a laugh in my heart, I classify it as a V0. See? Feeling better already.
My balance leads across the stony surface where I skirt puddles and step over a dark, damp log. Just beyond, the sun has dried the farthest perch which feels just right for me as I settle down cross-legged and sigh.
Gripping the brassy carabiner makes it easy to unzip my backpack and pull out my journal. Uncapping the pen, I choose this moment to scribble more thoughts. Hopes. Prayers. I find sweet release in placing words onto the page. Not words of fiction, but of this very moment. Ripples slosh against the base of the rock. A cool, calming sound. A reminder that I’m never truly alone. Not surrounded by so much majesty.
Flipping back through my journal, I land on a dog-eared page. One worth remembering. It was a day some months back when I went to pick Sammy up from school. The kids were all gathered around their teacher as she passed out a sticker to each student. All the children were clamoring to get one. Except for Sammy who hung back, patiently waiting her turn. As kids shoved and squealed, there was a calm about her. She knew she would get a sticker as soon as the teacher was able. I remember watching her, and if her quiet, calm demeanor were dialogue, it would have declared: I can be last.
I can be last.
I am willing and able and calm enough to be last.
It’s the very thing I’ve battled with through all these years of being on my own. It’s been a cry of my heart and even a thorn in my side. But this evening, I remind myself of that assurance again. Of that challenge. That amid it all—despite the changes that ebb and flow—I want to be like that girl who patiently waited. Trusting that no matter the outcome, I will not be forgotten.
Pen at the ready, I scrawl one more line across the page.
Whether it’s the competition tomorrow or the desire of my heart for a relationship, I want to be willing—and gladly so—to be last.