Do you believe in coincidence? Or more to the point, do you believe in synchronicity?
One by one I took the bulbs, the ornaments, the lights off this Christmas tree. I checked and double checked. It was not until JB arrived home that night that she pointed to this one tin heart. How could I have possibly missed it? And what did it mean, of all the ornaments on the tree, that this one, this little heart, was hidden to me and then lickity-split in plain view?
JB has a new friend. Her name is Peaches and she dances. She also steals cookies. If you don't know already, there is this remarkable talented woman named Pam who also goes by the name of Yoborobo --whose plushies like Peaches make a person sing. Ms. Yoborobo has become a dear friend to me and many, with damn good reason.
JB lost her sister twelve years ago to $#@*& cancer. This week her brother-in-law died too. Unexpected and so sad, we traveled to the desert, arriving no more than forty minutes before he died, at home, aided and cared for by his two daughters. To be orphaned before you turn thirty years old? What universe dares to think that is fair? I look at this chair and I am reminded how fleeting and fragile life is.
Don't Postpone Joy. I know this is trite and it is also true. He could be sitting in this chair. Two weeks ago he was. The line is so thin. Be kind, yes, but while you can, be outrageous too. Love outrageously. That's my free advice.
What incredible patterns in the land below. Where do all these squares and circles come from? I can't fathom it.
The Arizona desert is so different from my New England. There is a stark simplicity to it all.
And there is authentic Mexican food. My heart flutters. There is no meal I like more. Except my orgasmic Mr. Sushi.
I traveled home alone. JB has stayed another week to help her nieces. The day after Christmas, I got sick and I stayed sick for two plus weeks. Before that the holidays were lovely and hectic. So here I am now, home alone, gratefully, in a quiet place, just our dog and me. It is a silence I have needed. I've been able to write, to fall in and out of bed when I wish. I made beef stew in the crock pot. I've watched the Presidential Inauguration. I called friends. Wrote some cards. Prayed that fucking cancer starts losing the battle every time.
I've been thinking. It's taken me four years to get over a hurt that I couldn't seem to let go of. Four years; it might even be five. I wonder what that says about me? Here's one conclusion I've come to: there's no helpful fault line. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm not perfect, but I lean on the side of kind and vibrant. I like me that way, Maybe I chose the wrong person, maybe I had some lessons to learn. Maybe even some gifts were given and taken. Maybe whatever happened happened because kicking and screaming I've been enriched by it.
Our human condition...
Don't Postpone Joy.