We whine about those unfortunate events, and maybe even shed a tear or two over them. But eventually time moves on. Occasionally the memory of what happens comes back, but we're able to push it away and trudge ahead, older and wiser.
Then there are times when we really believe we've moved on, gotten over it, forgiven and forgotten, and are ready to trudge ahead.
And then we find out we're wrong.
It happened a few weeks ago to me. Hubs was in Iowa doing improvements on his Mama's house to help supplement our non-existent income. I was bored with no one to talk to and took a quick trip to the mall.
I found myself wandering into a Hallmark store and decided to browse the Precious Moments. (Yes, the weird figurines. My Mom is a fan.)
I looked at the funny Gift Books section and laughed at the cleverness.
I browsed through the kichy snowman and reindeer ornaments.
(I also decided Hallmark needs a "Sex and the City" ornament collection. And that I should design it.)
I looked at memory scrapbooks and mentally kicked myself for not having one.
Then I looked across the store...and saw it.
I wasn't even looking for it, but apparently it was looking for me.
Like I said earlier, I thought I had let it go. I was positive I was over it and it couldn't hurt anymore. But then I looked at the glossy pictures and the funny captions, and I turned the card over to read the bio's of the authors.
I could have been there. With my picture and bio. ON A HALLMARK CARD.
But I'm not.
So despite my forgiving and forgetting and glazing over and shoving to the back of the closet, my feelings resurfaced once again. I started to get really mad.
In a Hallmark store.
A place of love and laughter, where even unicorns and rainbows overdose on happiness.
Before I could stop myself, I hastily began pulling one card after another off the display, reading it and saying, "THIS ISN'T EVEN FUNNY!" and "OH MY GOD, MINE WAS SO MUCH BETTER!"
The poor sales lady (in all her Mary Kay perfection glory) looked at me strangely from behind her cappuccino. I'm sure she was wondering how a person can actually get angry looking at Hallmark cards.
By the time I left the store, I had calmed down a bit. I knew this was not unlike seeing a boyfriend for the first time after you've been dumped. You immediately revert to Rocky Road ice cream and Julia Roberts videos for the next few days. You look at old pictures, cry over the songs you shared, and eventually move on.
Unfortunately, unlike old boyfriends, I still love Hallmark. It's not their fault. And because the circumstances of my card not making it to the final rounds is delicate, I will just have to get over it yet again.
But it doesn't mean I have to like it.
So for a little while longer, I will wallow in self pity. I will be mad and a little angry.
The good news is that once this contest is over, there will undoubtedly be another that follows.
I'll just have to win that one.