“The purpose of life is not to be happy.

It is to be useful, to be honorable,

to be compassionate

to have it make some difference

that you have lived and lived well.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Maybe you’ll earn a Nobel Peace Prize with your writing Amber,” he encouraged me as I felt like retreating. He always tells me to keep going when he sees me making it. “You obviously started something special. I can’t believe the response you are getting.”

We both looked at my Facebook feed. “I get nervous every time I log in,” I admitted. “I have had at least one hundred friend requests from Pakistan and India in the last three days. Look at this…” I rolled my thumb across my mouse. “It looks like I am being recruited by terrorists.”

He agreed with me as we browsed, “Yes, no joke. Don’t be surprised if your accounts get flagged.”

I was suddenly sure they already have been, “My videos won’t upload to Youtube anymore. The status is PENDING.Nothing I try to put up will go through.”

He smiled and when he did it warmed me, but not as much as his next words, “I am sure that the Youtube thing is nothing nefarious.”

It was like he placed a Swiss chocolate on my tongue, “Nefarious, now what is a delicious word. It never comes to mind when I am writing. I think I will wish for that condition, just so I have reason to use it when I write.” I was smiling too. It felt good to be smiling at each other again and it’s been that way since we broke up. Everything is gentle and sweet again, kinder.

His voice made me feel husky as he agreed. He started his sentence slowly, the word rolled from his tongue to tickle me on inside, “Nefarious, yes, it is a choice word. I enjoy it as well.” He moved the conversation back and I was grateful to be snapped away from my nefarious fantasies. For a brief moment I remembered him naked, the same moment had my neck back with his fingers in my hair. I shook my head to clear it as he continued. “Why are you accepting all of these friend requests if it makes you so nervous to do so?” He asked.

“I accept them BECAUSE it makes me so nervous. I like to know my fear, to understand it. How will I know how to best it if I am not willing to even look at it? I want to travel the world. If I am afraid of new Facebook friends I most certainly will not get very far.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, his face was the chagrin of, “What am I going to do with you?” His smile softened as he relaxed with more questions. “Are you sure you want to go to Pakistan? You do know that they found Asama Bin Laden hiding there.”

I grimaced as I recalled the day, “Yes, that’s right. They did help him hide there. I hated that man.” I felt my soul grow dark as I relived my childhood and the horror of realizing that it only takes one man to create a culture of evil and wrong doing. “I hated Hitler too, but it doesn’t mean I will never visit Germany.” My answer was final, but then so was the truth. “No, Pakistan was not on my wish to visit list. Maybe it should be though.”

His being told me he was impressed. I like seeing him that way, and just like that he insisted that I be better, that I do more. “Did you go to the gym yet? You have a magazine cover to get ready for. The world is waiting on you to win that fitness challenge Amber Garibay. Get to it.”

NOTE TO SELF: Typing on your cell phone is not easy. My own lesson has typos. At least we are both making an effort:)