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Saturday, October 25, 2008
Dear Cowboy,
For some reason, I've thought of you often lately. Maybe it's because
I ran across some Cross Canadian Ragweed and Stoney LaRue songs still in my iTunes library the other day - "Flowers" was always
my favorite, it just sounded like "you" to me - or maybe because it was almost this time last year that we ended things.
It took me - awhile - to let myself think of you and have any happiness
in those thoughts, because it hurt too much. But now, I smile to myself, and I remember what you said: "I'd like to think
that one day, twenty or so years from now, we'll both look back and think how lucky we were to have had time with such a wonderful
person." Random memories have floated back to the surface, intermittently and unexpectedly, and they've been sweet. I hope
you are well, and that the boys are doing great. It brings me to peace to be able to wish good things for you and to hope
that you are happy.
When I think of the people I have truly loved in my life, been in love
with, you are on that very short list. And I am glad for that. So if I ever do see you, one or five or twenty years from now,
I will be able to say truthfully that I was blessed to have spent time with a wonderful person.
And, yes, I'm yes dressing up like a Princess for Halloween this
year again.
CN
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Fear . . . and Hope
Sometimes, they're found in the same place. Maybe that's when you know
you're on the right track, that you're onto something - good. But it's precarious, a tightrope walk . . . a delicate dance
that could go either way at any moment. When you're making major changes in your life, or working your way through big decisions,
there are moments that you have - or at least, that I have - both of these feelings at the same time.
And I just have to hold both of those entities and emotions in my mind
at once, and not let either overwhelm me. I try to think of it like writing: when I work on a story and I almost have a sentence
or a paragraph or a chapter right, but something's just a teeny bit off . . . I have to just hold it in my mind, and come
back to it. Let it marinate, let it be. And, eventually, whether it's minutes, or hours, or, heavens, sometimes months
later . . . I get it just right. And I feel it - I always know the moment when it clicks.
I am seeking, working, waiting for some "clicks" in my life. Some of
that is active seeking, but some of it has to just be . . . marinating. And trusting that I'll get there.
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