Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster,  some days, all I want from you is to talk to me. Talk to me with all the words, beautiful in their sound, beautiful in their meaning, beautiful because you say them to me.  We can build our own fort in the living room, our fort of words. You build the walls, I'll bring the furniture. You make it stand, I make it cozy. And then we move in, to our fort of words, and read them to each other. I read your words back to you, you read my words back to me, until we no longer know who said what and it doesn't matter because it's all warm and soft and safe and we never want to leave.

Dear future hubster, you know how every Valentine's day I roll my eyes and say something like #FutureNotFlowers or "Send a girl to school"?  It wouldn't be any different this year - were you around - as I would tell you that instead of spending an evening in a restaurant crowded with couples either smug or uncomfortable, getting probably overprized food while trying to not judge everybody around us, we should offer the same amount of money to do something good with it. Thing is, we can. Thing is, I already have. Not only because you're not around so I don't need to look for heart-shaped business card holders or edible underwear, but also because you would like this idea , and you would donate too, and then we would have sent two girls to school.  We can make dinner at home. I'll wear red if you'd like. 

Dear future hubster, that "believe in yourself" mantra, I think that's a bit of a myth. Some people never lost their initial, unchallenged belief of their worth, but the rest of us, we have to learn again. And it doesn't just happen because you keep telling yourself all the good things. Even other people telling you all the good things is not going to make you believe. If you're a fellow beneficiary of the impostor syndrome, it might just make you feel like you're faking everything.  What does make a difference though is when people tell you things without those nice words. Unplanned, instinctively. When they look at you and it's obvious that they see beauty. When they giggle uncontrollably. When they wake up crying from a bad dream, and they tell you what it was about. When they ask you important and complicated questions because they are certain you know the answer. When they count on you because they know they can. When they show up for you on sm...

Dear future hubster, ever since Dr. Simon recommended that I dance to my own beat when stressed, emotional, overwhelmed, or simply need to express things I have no other way to express, I have been practicing rather regularly. I would describe my style as a mix of all 3 belly dancing moves I know, some good old headbanging, shaking everything Mother Nature gave me to shake, some poor imitation of line dancing moves and what I think should be polka if it was more elaborate, some jumping and fist-pumping and pointing other people do at concerts (where I normally just stand still), and of course dramatic moves to accompany my stadium anthem singing. You might refer to it as "versatile" if you ever have to discuss it.  Now why I'm telling you all this is because I want you to be warned: whenever I take a second Monday off and say that I don't have anything special planned, please know that most likely you will come home to some kind of soup enough to feed the Dothrak...

Dear future hubster, working in flexspace teaches me many things, and routinely disinfecting every morning is just one of them. It shows me, if occasionally somewhat forced analogies with life in general. It is probably not surprising that I have a selection of tried and confirmed locations where I like to sit. It is definitely not surprising that I do not like being told where to sit. It is understandable that untried locations feel like they are outside my comfort zone, and I only move to new ones on days when I feel I'm up for a little challenging stretch.  Now there are days when I move far away from my usual locations. Maybe for more quiet, maybe for more pleasant climatic conditions, maybe for discovery. Or maybe, just maybe, sometimes I withdraw just to see if anybody would notice I'm not around. If anybody would make the effort to come look for me.  Almost like saying "You're missed". And maybe not just at work.