Friday, November 27, 2009

In real time

It's a gray day and the sun breaks through, my sweetheart still sleeps and his dog chews a bone at my feet. There's a bird outside my window trying to tell me something, or maybe it's just sitting there, and I only imagine the rest.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

The way things aren't

I thought I saw a sign that said, "Udder College," but it actually said, "Urban Cottage."

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Just around the corner

We met for the first time at the corner cafe. He looked at me with a side glance, curious and smiling. The conversation flowed until he said he was leaving town for good.

Almost 4 weeks later, I met him again at the same cafe. He had made his move to the mid-west, and was back in New York to tie up loose ends. He looked at me with a side glance, curious and smiling and something more. We kissed, we courted, then returned together to St. Louis to retrieve his things.

For years he lived just around the corner. Now he lives with me.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Cleaning day

Opening my heart to someone at twenty-six was like being on a train. I bought a ticket and gave little thought to the speed I was traveling, or to whether or not I was on the right track. At forty-six, I still want the rush and I crave the unknown, but I'm also aware of reckless rides and roadblocks, and that I may need to avoid a crash.

I want to clear shelf space for him, put his toothbrush next to mine--create a sanctuary so, at the end of the day when he's done slaying dragons, he can return to a place of peace. I want to wash his socks and iron his shirts, and see the appreciation in his eyes when I do. My feminine gifts are domestic in form, physical, and spiritual--each one offered in return for all he gives me.

I'm learning a song on the guitar, and the words go like this:

Please, don't let me down this time-
I've come a long way just to fall back into line.

I've been singing those lyrics for two weeks now, silently asking him to please not let me down. But today, after running another load of laundry and stacking dry silverware into a drawer, I made time to practice my guitar. And the minute I sang that line, I cried because I knew it wasn't he who could let me down, it was me.

He requires nothing I don't already possess, demands nothing I don't give freely, but if I'm not careful, I could dedicate my life to being me, for him. I could let go of my blog, my book, my guitar and then my song--and if my song goes, so do I.

"Don't have faith in me," he said this morning. "Have faith in yourself."

I didn't have to process it or test to see if it was true.

So I'll cook when I cook and when I don't, there's take-out. I'll clean when I clean and when I don't, there's tomorrow. I'll walk by the river, write my book and I'll learn new songs, and I'll remember that the sanctuary he longs for won't be found in an empty sink, but in the full and fulfilled heart of the woman he loves.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Thoughts in real time

There's so much to say and nothing to say so I can't say a thing. I've found someone and it makes no sense, and it makes perfect sense, and he makes sense of it all.

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

Meet him in St. Louis

Flying out in the morning, driving back with him, home on Sunday. Bye, all.

Relative ride

Letting go of the reins can leave you out of control and in danger, or it can give you the freedom to do what comes naturally.

Monday, November 02, 2009


How amazing to fall in love in my twenties, feel all the sweetness, intensity and hope in the world and then, in my forties, do it all over again.