Thursday, February 22, 2007

To My Dear, Dear Friend

May 24th, 2006

To My Dear, Dear Friend,
Three days after getting engaged.


Thank you for being who you are to me.
You deserve every wonderful thing that is happening to you.

Be proud of who you are and what you have.
You are who you are because of the life you have lived.
Embrace this.
Reward yourself with joy and love.

Treat yourself well.
Treat yourself as well as you treat others and as well as others treat you.
Being married will become a part of you, it will not take over who you are.
You will retain your shape and enrich your life.

Cry when you want to cry.
Laugh when you want to laugh.
Love as you need to be loved.
Give what you may not have gotten.
Forgive what needs to be forgotten.
Find a happy medium, don’t forget your friends, or yourself, but never forget your Love.

You now are a part of a pair.
You are two crystal champagne glasses sitting in a china closet.
Full of fun.
Together, surrounded by other treasured things.

Let yourself be who you are.
Don’t be sorry for having it all.
Work hard to keep what you have.
Strive for more,
But most of all, love, love, love.


The Master

We have a routine, Charlie and I. Every morning as I am changing him he tells me about the dreams he had the night before. Last night there were frogs in the closet, one was Aunt Sadie.
On the drive to school, he sometimes tells me a story. This morning's was precious:

"Where’d the puppy go?" This was Charlie’s response to my pointing out a stocky, peppy, white spotted Jack Russell terrier who anxiously pulled his owner across the road.

To this, one of his many, tireless questions, was my response, "He’s on a walk with his master." Normally when I respond to his questions, I try to prompt a further response, or at least give more information, which usually inspires yet another question. So I went on to say, "Do you know who Rudy’s master is?"

Charlie said he did not know. "You are Rudy’s master." I said. "That means you are the boss of Rudy, that he loves you the most."

Barely a second passed, when he asked, "Who is the Dame?"

"Baa, baa, black sheep lives down the lane."

Smiling into my rear-view mirror, I told him that I am the dame.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

The way it used to be


How is it that I have gotten here? 30, single. Oh so very single, embarrassingly in fact…through bad decisions, compromise, sheer stubbornness. Single, born of solitude and the ease of being alone, in not having to be accountable. Being single means being a kid.

I am a kid. A 30-year-old-kid. Oh sure, I have a house and a dog and a big tv and a stereo to make noise, to keep the silent still house full, with noise. The thing I miss most about not living alone; is getting to be alone, to have the entire house to myself, it was special, but then thrilling to hear the garage door open. Empty but full; knowing that soon enough someone would be there to share the space, the air, to breathe with the breaths of someone else. That’s why I have Jake.

I lie. I did not have a choice in having Jake. Jake was chosen for me, or at least, Jake chose me. But either way, I had no choice in the matter. But back to breath. It soothes me. He breathes deeply, weighted, slowly, so close to a snore but not, just a deep steady in-and-out breath.

Have I said today is wonderful? That’s my word, wonderful. I love words. How they sound…what they mean, just love them. But wonderful because; you make your day. You decide the outcome. If you keep saying, why did this happen to me, or poor, poor me, or just have a crappy attitude in general; you will make crap. So, something wonderful is bound to happen today. (Say it everyday.)

But to contradict myself, miserable is absolutely my favorite word. Love the way it sounds when you draw it out all slow. Mizzzzz-errrrr-uhhhh-bulll. M-i-s-e-r-a-b-l-e. Even said with a half-scowl. It’s simply wonderful. Ah, but I digress again, or maybe for the first time (here) but definitely not the last. So where was I?

How could I forget? Single. Not suddenly single like the freakishly tall Brooke Shields, stepping over small houses, just plain single. But dating. So how are people supposed to meet each other anyway? At the gym? in the grocery store? through the friends? at school (now work?) while driving? or worse, at a bar? Where. ‘Cause I’ve tried them all. Am constantly talking to people, smiling, saying “hi”, being outgoing, going out, not talking on my cell phone, being available, looking available; but not too available, never too available. Too available is not good.

Ever look too long? Get caught looking, not looking because you necessarily are interested in knowing that person but looking because they happen to be where you were looking. They were in your space, and still are. And because it is your space, you keep looking back. So much that they catch you looking, at them! Even though you weren’t! But busted anyway.

So being single sucks. It makes for long lazy days of doing nothing and getting nothing done even though there’re a million things to do. Sure, there are sudden manic bursts of energy with profuse cleaning or exercise or writing. It’s not that I ‘m lazy but that I focus my energy towards other things, in other directions. Like for instance, towards going out...