Whiskey kisses and cupcakes

It seems I can't escape the bitter chill in the air but I'm ok with that right now.  I've got the sliding door open a few inches so I can hear the waves and the chatter of those filthy gulls.  I'm at the beach.  I'm in North Carolina with some strange large research ship or something running up and down the coast doing who knows what and for the first time in days, I'm alone.  I'm actually doing the laundry too, go figure!

Seeing palm trees makes me feel silly being wrapped in this old ugly floral beach house quilt.  Sand, waves.... I keep forgetting it's only late March and the sun isn't quite ready for me although I am very ready for it.  But there's nothing to complain about.... I sat in a hot sun spot yesterday morning with my coffee and the door open wide watching the waves while my friends and family 500 miles north dug themselves out of the snow.  I hope that was the last snow of the season.  I may cry otherwise.

So is this where I intend to live?  I think yes.  I think the words of Fondly, Martha have come true.  Perhaps I'm not putting enough weight on decisions of this size.  Maybe I just assume that since I was looking for a change, this must be the right one for me.  Maybe it just feels so right that I have no reason to question it.  There's just something about this 3rd floor condo overlooking the ocean that feels like the right next step.  Not to mention its a 3rd floor condo with a balcony overlooking the ocean.

My return to Philly is only 5 days away and my resignation from the job I've loved for 13 years is close behind.  For real this time.  There will be no hanging on to a few days mid-week and commuting.  This isn't NYC.  This is much too far for that kind of security blanket.  It would be no security blanket anyway.  After all, I decided to leave the job nearly a year ago in an effort to find something that pays enough to eat and put gas in my car.  I'm tired of choosing between those two things while chasing the mice and roaches around my apartment.

And the best part of it all is that I seem to have found the elusive "something" that I had finally brought myself to believe I'd never find.  For the first time in my life I have no doubts, no questions, no anxiety, and full trust in just being.  I logically try and tell myself to think this through more carefully and to keep a safety net out but I don't know what else to say other than it feels like I'm home and I'm not speaking geographically.

Ghost cat is wandering around the condo.  I haven't seen her since my apartment in Woodside Queens.  She hides in my Port Richmond place.  There's too much bad juju there.  I will not be sad to walk away from the only place I've lived in alone and I will not be sad to not have to burn sage on a regular basis to clean the air just so I can sleep.  I am indeed more superstitious than I care to admit on most days.

Its getting time to close the glass door and heat up some of the delicious homemade eggplant parm in the fridge.  I'm not quite sure I'm ready to move yet though.  I guess I can wait until the washer is done.  A washer and dryer, the sound of the waves, the black leather vest with the Harley-Davidson patch hanging over the kitchen chair.  Things couldn't get more comfortable and right than this, of that I am pretty sure.  It certainly has felt like I've stumbled upon my own fairy tale.  The cynic in me cringes at my even thinking those words and now that I've typed them out I see her swinging a sock of rocks over her head.  She is only concerned for me and it concerns her more that I'm not paying her any mind.  If this all does come back to bite me in the ass, so be it because it's all been worth it so far. 

hmmm the washing machine sings a little song at the end of the cycle.  It reminds me of the cute little house in College Park, MD that I haven't seen in a long while.  We will stop on our way back here in late June and have some lunch or brunch or something wonderful.  I will miss those visits most of all.  I will miss the closeness of all my cousins that I've come to enjoy these past 3 years.

The sun is beginning to set, the tide is coming in, and he'll be home soon.  He'll come home to find me here, where he left me, comfy and cozy and drinking a big glass of wine.  Dishes are done.  Laundry is done and folded.  I don't feel like I'm playing house.  I feel like I'm home.

There is a lot of work to be done over the next two and a half months.  It will take my mind off the fact that there are a lot of goodbyes coming.  When I think about that too much it's a little hard to breath but its even more difficult to think of what I'd lose if I didn't follow this through.  

strange little girl

Woke up to an inch of new snow on the ground and heavy flurries.  I heard Tori coming from the kitchen.  Something from Venus.  Otherwise the world was very quiet and cold but not muffled like the snow usually is.  Something just felt a little off but not in a bad way.

After 3 and a half hours of sleep, I was oddly alert and ready to get on with the day.  I was also a little disoriented and tried to separate my dreams of the "night" with the real.  I'm not sure I did have dreams but I'm also not sure if what I thought was reality really was.  We had to leave later that day.  I needed to pack and clean and say goodbye soon.

Mother is doing well although she seemed strikingly older than she did six weeks ago.  It's understandable but I look forward to things getting back to normal or even better than normal was.  It was a good visit.  We are getting along better than we ever have.

I think she really enjoys telling people how backwards a baby and child I was.  Hopefully it's because, despite how awkward my behaviors were, I've turned out well enough.  A little weird, but well enough. 

"Most babies cry until you pick them up.  You would be happy as a clam until I picked you up and then you'd cry and cry until I put you back down.  It got to the point where I would just hold you until you stopped crying and then I'd put you down again."

We wonder why I have an aversion to hugging immediate family members...

How about speaking my own language until I was 5 years old.... I was playing and reading music long before I was speaking proper, coherent English.  I was also in diapers until about then and had to be kept on a strict schedule or I would fall asleep wherever I was, including in my food.  Apparently, I almost drowned in my soup on more than one occasion. 

"I couldn't ever put you in a time out because you preferred to be alone and play by yourself.  You liked time outs too much."

I still prefer to be alone most of the time.  My head gets too loud.  It's too loud right now and I can only manage about 10 seconds of even my favorite songs.  Being around people for several consecutive days  turns into constant noise in my head and makes me dizzy.  At that point even light turns sonic and invades my peace and makes it impossible for me to perform the simplest task like getting dressed or brushing my teeth.  My only desire is to hide in a dark, silent, solitary place for a day or two and it's the only way I've found to help me feel normal again.

I was an odd child who grew into an odd adult.  An odd adult who is proud of her accomplishments and loves her friends and family and even *cough cough* her sisters and mother with all her being.  I also still love time outs and put myself in them on a regular basis. 

A little after 1 am on, well, technically Monday morning, I returned to my apartment.  As I climbed the stairs to the second floor I noticed a door that had never been there before.  I stopped and turned around to make sure I was in the right building.  I remembered I had to unlock the building door just to get in so I had to be in the right place and turned back and proceeded slowly up the stairs my eyes never leaving the new door.  It is white with proper molding... unlike any other door in this building.  I promise it wasn't there before but I questioned myself until I was up in my own apartment. 

I was half expecting the door to be gone today but it's still there.  I tried to open it.... its locked.  I will try again tomorrow and look for the five and a half minute hallway.  I'm still a little confused and anxious and unsettled but numb to the negative aspects of all those things. 

Things are changing and for once, I'm ready for it. 

I think.     

An atheist and a priest go to dinner...

My new favorite thing lately has been roasting and candying nuts.  They say to roast them until the smell of roasting nuts fills your kitchen.  Well, my kitchen isn't that big but I can only smell them if I'm near the oven.  Maybe my sinuses are screwy.  Maybe it's because I only roast one pound at time and they're done in about 12 minutes.  But god damn it smells heavenly right around my oven

This morning I'm sitting on my bed with my coffee in hand and bundled up.  It's warmer in here than it was yesterday but still not warm enough for my comfort.  Having the curtains opened lets in a lot of cold air thanks to cheap windows but I need the sunlight too.  I often dream of life on a tropical island and today, bag full of candied walnuts in hand, is no different. 

Its so quiet around here these days.  The building is empty except for me.  Yesterday I could hear my landlord singing loudly as he cleaned and fixed up the vacant units in the building.  Yes Tomas, I am happy they are all gone too.  Let's hope the newbies are kinder and more respectful. 

I've been here a long time..... three years now.  In this 4 unit building I've seen 2 units move out peacefully and 4 get evicted.  My hopes for the rehabilitation of the building are not too high but I'd like to be able to  have a friend visit again.  I've had a small handful of guests over the years but none for over a year and a half. 

August 29th ish....20...11 perhaps.  Yes, I think that's correct, or as close to correct as you're going to get.   I remember what shoes I was wearing... my cute cork wedge pink leather sandals I got on super duper sale at the outlets in Sanatoga.  I also remember having to stop in the 7-11 at 2nd and Market that day to pick up a box of band-aids to protect my chafing feet from the brand new leather.  We walked down 2nd St. trying to figure out where to stop first.  It was early afternoon I suppose and there weren't many people out and about yet.  It was also a day or two after Hurricane Irene hit the east coast.... perhaps some places were closed due to flooding and power issues. 

It turns out I remember some details better than others. 

Eulogy was closed.  I sat down on their stoop and band-aided up my feet and then we went in to Triumph Brewery.  I certainly remember very few significant details.  I suppose it was the fact that I had been drinking for.... oh, I dunno, at least 5 days solid at that point.  Though I do remember having some wonderful conversations with my company. 

So, I remember my shoes, a band-aid situation, Triumph Brewery and delicious beers, great conversation and dinner.  It was the most spectacular dinner!  Cuba Libre.  I don't remember what I ate or drank... probably sangria knowing me.  Dessert was some kind of dulce de leche or something that I had never had before but he was super excited about.  Delish!  I was pretty tanked at this point but obviously holding it together enough considering I remember what was, hopefully at least, the most important part of that night's conversation.

It is beautiful inside that place.  Being late summer, the giant windows that make up the entire facade of the restaurant were all open.  The ceiling was two stories up and we were surrounded by massive tropical plants, trees, palms... completely engulfed in the atmosphere.  Those cute and somewhat tacky ceiling fans with bamboo blades shaped like paddles.... peaceful, relaxing and totally made me forget I was in Philly.   I'm sure the sangria helped it all too.

The company I kept that weekend was very taken with me.... had been since we first met in NYC years before.  I don't remember our exact meeting but know we met through a mutual friend.  It was most likely at the Slaughtered Lamb in the West Village.  It was most likely over Guinness and a few car bombs and ridiculous conversation and with one or more of the boys getting bent over the table and whipped by the waitress. 

I do certainly remember one of our times out and about in the city, standing on the subway platform each waiting for different trains to head home.... his pulled up quickly when we got to the bottom of the stairs and he grabbed me, stole a kiss and started towards the train.  He never let go of my hand though and once our arms were completely outstretched he pulled me towards him and stole another before hopping on the train and the doors closing. 

It always seems to be trains.  They're always there.  They always close their doors at just the right time.  Once happily inside them there is no passage of time, only passage of space.  Life is just the way it should be on trains.  I understand that my love affairs are as much with trains as they are with men.

But trains are cold.  And lonely.  Merely ways for people to go back to real life, homes and families in the suburbs or back to the life of the cities where there is no responsibility other than getting to a bed safe as the sun begins to brighten the sky.  I miss those pre-sunrises I spent drunk and underground though I definitely don't miss having to be creative to find a bathroom at 4 am when the bladder that's full of booze decides it has to be emptied immediately! 

And there we sat six years later in Cuba Libre.... drunk and happy, sharing dessert and looking at a string of tomorrows with millions of possible outcomes.  It was all so perfect for a girl like me because the only thing I'm certain of is that I want to be surrounded by beautiful, wonderful people forever.

Pianos

Go ahead and giggle as you look at her.  Leaning a little to the left, one headlight a bit crooked, small dents in both sides of the hood's front corners.  Walk around the driver's side and notice the mangled door lock where someone tried to crowbar their way into her, the busted up driver's side rear hub cap.  The driver's side mirror has been replaced three times, the passenger's side window has been busted once, and the driver's side front strut was snapped in half once.  All damages that happened while I wasn't even in the vehicle (except the right side hood dent).  That poor abused car is my best friend.

She's taken on somewhere around 65,000 miles since I bought her 3 years ago.  Pretty impressive for a car that often sits idle for weeks and, on a few occasions, months at a time.  I'd buy her all over again if I could and I'm holding on until she just can't keep up with me any longer.

I've somewhat lost track of time but I got the car in early December three years ago.  That would be December of '09 right?  Dad had been gone going on 11 years and mom was packing up 30 years of our lives in the 2-story beige colonial with brown shutters to ready it for sale.  Tensions were high between my mother and all four of her daughters.  None of us could get along for even just a meal.  I was living part time in 3 different homes, in 3 different towns. It was the end of my couch surfing homeless days. 

That was the summer I hopped in that car and we took our first, most wonderful road trip.  Philadelphia to Indian Rocks Beach, Fl.  Just me & my Saturn with no ac and every cd I owned.  And peace for nearly 2 months.  I spent all but three days of that two months completely alone.  I remember about 6 days into the trip my phone rang and it was the first time I had spoken to a human being since I checked into the cottage a week prior.

Gloriousness!

That is what life is all about.

"I hope you haven't been doing much highway driving like this."  My hub assembly was completely fucked up.  My tire could have flown off the car at any moment.

Well, I'm pretty sure it was okish enough for my road trip to the Carolinas last summer.  Of course, that was after the time Jose cut me off, slammed on his brakes, lost control of his blue Blazer and took out the passenger side front corner of my car which could have been when the hub assembly was initially damaged.  But since the noises started.... eh, just three 130 mile trips into Maryland.... oh yeah, and the drive on I-95 every day to and from work.  Oh, and the 43 miles to my sister's house I made on many occasions.  Oh, and two or three trips out to Telford to hang with the beautiful MissRose.

I still owe $60 on those repairs and I don't have the money to pay it.

I remember the drive to Florida.  The rains in Georgia nearly killed me.  I hadn't driven through visibility like that since the nighttime October drives through the Great Smoky Mountains.  Tori kept me company and I had all the time in the world.  I've been lucky to have had an incredible amount of freedom over the past decade.  Freedom to do what makes me happy.  Freedom to be myself.  Freedom of time but not of money which is better than the reverse in my mind.  I had plenty of everything I needed.

Certain loves have left my life over the past three years.  Sometimes I miss them terribly.  Sometimes I don't give them the teeniest thought.  Sometimes, like now, they get a thought, a three quarter smile, and then go back into the cobwebby corner where they live until I need to borrow a memory, laugh, or break my heart.  Tonight I don't need those memories, tonight it's time to face forward. 

Right now I'm sitting at my kitchen table waiting for the last good light bulb in this apartment to burn out.  I'm clothed in multiple layers and wearing a winter hat, fingerless gloves and scarf, and wrapped in a blanket I use rarely because I refuse to ever wash it because its as soft as clouds.  I'm cold and I'm hungry.  But I'm getting by just fine. 

I pull my old cherry colored Samick out of the cobwebby corner.  She was pretty enough and she played nice enough.  She was brand new when I brought her home.  Home in Nashville.  Home in Antioch.  Home in Horsham.  Then they took her home and I never saw her again.  I don't miss her.  I just miss having her kind near me at all times.

I need little more than a date with my 990 pound friend in that big empty auditorium though I'll certainly settle for any of his smaller siblings.  No wonder I'm lost, I haven't had a heart to heart with myself in longer than I can remember.  I think it was maybe Goose Creek, South Carolina.  When was I in a place called Goose Creek?  I think it was a dream a lifetime ago.  A lifetime when it was warm and I wasn't here.

The excitement is starting to dance in my belly a bit.  "This is our year" MissRose constantly reminds me.  I need her constant reminders.  And from that cobwebby corner I see a shadowy form jumping up and down and laughing.  "Extraordinary lives don't just fall into peoples laps.  You have to take risks and make stupid choices." 

Fondly, Martha

I keep rereading the glittery snowman card.  I can't help it.  It brings a smile to my face every time.  It means more to me than it should.  I wish things were different.  Everything.  I really do.  It's always times like these that I fall back on my old friend, The Serenity Prayer.  Yes, an odd friend for a girl like me.  I take away the God part.  The personification of the energy that is bigger than Us is what I don't believe in.  It is the Universe and it is Me and You.  It's all semantics.

I often have to tell my kids that the transitions are always the hardest.  You just have to take that tiny section and repeat it over and over until you get it right.  I, personally, am very inconsistent.  I rarely make the same mistake more than twice, but I constantly make mistakes.  There's consistency in that I suppose, I am never perfect.  And never get it quite right.

Thinking back, it's hard to figure out where I veered left.  I think landing my dream job at 23 years old was my downfall.  I went from working three jobs and 16 - 18 hour days to working 25 or so hours in a week for 9 months out of the year.  It was a cushy lifestyle for a long time.  Sleeping in as much as I want.  Doing whatever I want, whenever I want.  Taking nice long 2 or 3 month roadtrips without a care in the world.  It all makes the task of finding a new job all the more daunting.  Why give all this up? Well, there's a cockroach story, a mouse story, a drug dealer story, a squatter story, and of course, the leopard print duct tape that holds my car together on too frequent an occasion. 

Not so much a dream job after all I suppose.

Not any more at least.  All good things come to an end.

Transitions are always the hardest part.

Transitions when you doubt yourself in every possible way are painful too. 

Yesterday was the painful climax of my week.  One of those weeks where nothing big happened but a million little things just went the wrong way.  I didn't handle it very well either.  It happens from time to time.  I'm calmer now, not ready to take on the world again yet, but calmer. 

One step at a time.

It's 9pm on a Friday night.  I'm already in my jammies, occasionally getting teary into my cherry whiskey spiked green tea and I don't know what I want to do next.  I know what I'm good at, I know what I like, and I know the April 22nd deadline is quickly approaching.  My 'want' and 'need' haven't been this far apart in 13 years.  It's unsettling and exhausting.

My glittery snowman card is smiling at me.  His arms stretched out as if wanting to hug my dumb self.  I'm holding on to a little part of our conversation.  (Relax, I'm not having conversations with the card.  I had a lovely talk with its author just before Christmas.  I'm not THAT crazy).  There is a certain similarity to the way things have played out in our lives.  It boils down to faith (in myself) and luck. 

That gives me severe heartburn and anxiety. 

So, I bought a big bottle of Tums and a few bottles of wine and am wishing on the stars I can't see in the city.

Great plan for my future huh?! 

:)

4 hours

They were able to save the photo albums from the 50's.... the albums themselves a little warped and stained but most of the photos in tact.  That's pretty impressive considering the 25 foot by 50 foot "pile" of trash that was nearly as tall as the rancher itself. 

"Where to begin" is always the hardest part of anything.  Do we begin with the drive through the neighborhood?  Houses spray painted with letters and markings to tell you the basics.  Is there electricity?  Gas?  Water?  The yellow and black demolition signs were awful.  Nearly every house on some blocks have them.  Piles of debris larger than cars were in most yards... mattresses, furniture, clothing, toys... 40 yard dumpsters at the top of streets overflowing with more piles of personal possessions  surrounding them. 

The first house on our list was condemned and no one was there.  We went next door and found a completely overwhelmed couple in their late 60's. He was in the back yard meandering around and she was in what was left of her kitchen trying to figure out what to do.  The carpets had been ripped out the day before and packing boxes and cleaning supplies were left for them.  All their clothing was dripping wet in 20 or so plastic bags out in the back yard.  There were few pieces of savable furniture and about a dozen already packed boxes.

At first they said there was nothing we could do to help them.  "It's all just a mess."  We told them we'd try our best to help anyway.  I went into the kitchen and asked her again what I could do.  "Nothing.  There's nothing left.  Nothing to do."  I quietly grabbed a box and some pots and started packing, eyeing, but not yet able to pack the deep square corningware roaster just like the one my mother used to have.

Less than 20 minutes later the kitchen countertops were cleared and I found out that the straw covering the backyard was courtesy of Sandy and needed to be cleared away.  Underneath it all somewhere was a patio of gray 4x8 pavers.  We started in the back corner and found a hot tub.  Unburied their paddleboat which was upside down in the middle of the yard.  Slowly uncovered the pier.  There was a complete, packaged grocery store rotisserie chicken on the pier.  The smell was... is still in my nose.... God awful in the worst way.  Imagine a 13 day old, sitting in the sun, rain, snow, sea water soaked, plastic encased rotisserie chicken.

A male and female mallard swam up to the pier and started talking with us at that point.  Within a half hour 2 more couples and a single female joined them.  Swimming around and laughing as we bagged up the mess.

Half of a plastic drinking pitcher.  A kid's plastic blue shovel.  Bright pink frisby.  Someone's Blue Cross Blue Shield paperwork from two towns away.  Dvds: White Christmas, Grease 2, Gilligan's Island, We Bought a Zoo, and one more that I can't remember right now.  A squeeze bottle of grape jelly.  Massive pilings.  Still that smell.  Not even just the chicken but the rotting wet sea grasses a foot deep.  Photos, nothing very personal but someone's photos.  Pieces of things.  Plastic hunks of stuff.  Unrecognizable remnants of people's lives.  A lady bug.

"It's only stuff," she said choking a little on the words after I complimented her gorgeous granite counter tops.  Those can be saved she was told.  The deep freezer, her laundry machines, all her kitchen appliances... gone.

We found a barbecue cover.  We found the dock.  We found half a rhododendron.  Under the straw and plastic bags of dripping clothing we found 3 bean plants still green and holding firm in the ground.  Another lady bug.  We started shoveling up the inch and a half of thick dark mud.  Somewhere, under all the muck, in the center of the yard in pavers is an eagle.  A custom piece their son did years ago.  We could see the outline of the circular area but nothing else through the mud.  That's a job for a power washer on another day.

Four hours and approximately 45+ Hefty Husky Contractor bags later the yard was looking good.  A yard again.  Some of the mud and water was already drying and you could already see what a lovely space it once was and will be again. 

The front yard was another story.  Or, more accurately, told the story.  The front yard reminded me as we drove off that our day there was done but this couple, along with all of their neighbors, were far from seeing the end of this.  Their whole lives sat in bags and pieces in their front yards.  I don't understand how waste management is going to deal with this.  I don't know how long it will take just to get the trash and debris out of the way and out of sight so that rebuilding can begin. 

Every once in a while I get a whiff of that smell still. 

I'd like to think we made a bit of difference for that couple today.  I feel like it wasn’t enough.  It probably won’t ever feel like it’s enough.  I’m on empathy overload and have reignited faith in mankind. 

2 weeks & 2 days

As I ate my soup standing at the kitchen counter, because my little kitchen table is covered with 6 months of unopened bills and credit card offers, listening to Pandora‘s odd mix of songs, I remembered how much I love Sarah McLachlan's voice.  It takes me back to Nashville, TN in late 1999.  Post the greatest affair of my life. 

I met a boy in my parent's basement one night.  I didn't think much of him.  I met that same boy years later and decided I was going to love him even though he didn't want to be loved.  And he loved me back in spite of himself. 

In the darkest time of my life, I loved and was loved.  The affair was bookended by the deaths of our fathers.  Mine on August 1, 1999 and his on October 24, 1999, both after long battles with cancer.  All the books in between read the same....  cigarettes and drunk sex, music and poetry.  Although the friendship seeped beyond that three months, the affair lasted just two weeks and two days and those were separated by a month and 850 miles.

It's difficult to think of the details.  Not because of feelings.  But because of the heavy beer and vodka cloud that hangs over the whole thing. 

We went on a real first date.  That I remember.  I got an email, “I have some extra cash this week and I want to take a pretty girl out.  What are you doing Friday?“  We had dinner somewhere on Welsh Rd in the northeast and then we shot pool on Levick and Frankford.  I dropped him off at home and we sat on his front steps talking.  His friend ended up stopping by sending me home a little abruptly much to his dismay.  That was sometime in late August.  We spent every day and night after that together until I moved back to Nashville September 8th and took his friend's affair with me.

I remember packing the 17 foot Penske truck the night before.  Most of my things were already in Nashville, in my cute apartment on Trails Circle.  Just a few odds and ends and those 1970’s barrel backed white chairs that are now occupying my storage space 2 blocks from the music school.  They were the last to go in the truck.  We all got drunk, chain smoked, and ignored saying what was really on our minds.  He wrote us a poem, gave it to me the next morning as the truck was parked in front of my family's house and we said our goodbyes.  He told me not to read it until I was in Nashville.  I read it at a rest stop near Roanoke, VA.

Men and women

Walk in and out of each others

Lives

Sometimes like lemmings to sea

Sometimes like pilgrims to the promised land

Searching for comfort

In an uncomfortable world

Once in a great while

Some will walk into each other

When the time is right

And both need compassion and healing

And passion

But life is chaos

And no time is the right

Because we all have different paths

Mine will lead me to North Broad Street

To finish my education

It will detour soon to a cemetery

Other paths include a Penske truck

And an 850 mile trek

In hopes of finding something

Keep saying that at 5:30

Tomorrow morning I will be upset

Truth is I have been upset for days

Yet at the same time

I have been joyous for weeks

Pain and ecstasy are divided

By a thin line or so they say

Now I feel the two have bled

Together in a swirl of beauty

I write in typical style

Thoughts flowing

Imperfect yet no revision

Like life the past is written

Only the future is an open page

Yet to be written

I hope our paths cross once again

But am satisfied with what I have received

Gift of the self is more precious than

Anything material

I thank you for sharing your self

With me

Changed yet again in significant fashion

More evolved more complete

In this journey toward death

A chance to grow

Explore the mind

And be comforted

In this uncomfortable world

Thank you,

I haven't gotten to the 2 days portion of the affair and the 10 years of my best friend after that.  But this story is over for now.  The wrinkled, handwritten piece of white legal pad paper with doodles in the margins lives peacefully with a handful of other handwritten and typed pages.  I haven’t looked through them since the last major snow storms years ago....

 
In 13 years I’ve had one boyfriend which lasted two years.  The rest of my time I’ve spent having affairs with extraordinary men who I can also call my friends.  Sometimes I think I should draw a line between love and friends and then I think “Silly me, true friends are the definition of love and the best kind of love at that.”