Just Thinking.....

It's pretty amazing how cozy the internet and blogging can become, isn't it? I never thought I'd say it, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

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Back in the Saddle?

My optimism may be back. I am as tired and depleted as I can ever remember--as tired as my short stint running a restaurant--but the last four days have been calm. Nothing has unraveled, days are feeling normal, and things are actually looking up.

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So here's a long overdue update, beginning where the holidays ended, finally with a hopeful slant:

Kindness has followed jb and me throughout too many surgeries, impairments, surprises, and crisises. Our good friends decorated our house for the holidays. Red Mojo strung our Christmas lights, brought us Ben and Jerry's ice cream, plowed our driveway. And for the last three months and especially last month, we've had groceries delivered, chores completed, errands run, dinners cooked. Unbelievable.

During this strange time, I've slipped in and out of many blogs, sometimes leaving a quick comment and often too weary or depressed to say anything. Still, a few blogs, especially, served to consistently ground me in a comforting reliable way. So here's my sincere thank you and recognition to kind Anon, Melissa, and Ces for cheering me up no-matter-what.

This is a good sign. A few days ago this Amaryllis bloomed. It is so cool to watch this plant start as a big round bulb and sprout inch after inch until it is almost two feet high and ready to reveal these incredible flowers. Across the miles my best friend (you may know who) and I have been tracking the growth of this miracle. It's hard to be depressed under such circumstances.

It's winter. The snow has been on the ground now for months. It doesn't play well with crutches. But...man, is it beautiful......

Oh, here he is yet again: Mr. Ryan. I look at this photo and remember that even the toughest times will not last--and certainly not without a fight.

Yesterday was the first time in TWO MONTHS that we have had a fire. Normally I built several a week, but I have been too weary. So the quiet event of sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace is another sign that things are improving.

Give me Peet's coffee (Major Dickinson blend) anytime and I'll feel better. Every morning for the past few months I have started my day this way, if only for five minutes before the approaching sound of a walker, crutch or cane stepped into my solitude....

jb is almost three weeks past a total knee replacement. In a weak moment she's allowed me to post this picture. She is still on crutches and will be for some time. I won't tell you about the 911 call in the early morning last week, but overall, she is improving each day. And today she bought herself an Apple iPhone, which is very cool and very exciting.
And, after multiple complications and challenges, my Mother will be moving to a wonderful rest home next week. It is a grand place where she will have freedom, activity and support, 3 miles from us--and here at # 9 our old routine will hopefully return. Oh: except that I will be returning to work in early March. More on that soon enough....

Here they are in the back hall: Cathy, Lily, and the Ukulele kids. All I have to say is: Comforting.

And since I'm feeling optimistic, how about these artistic truffles?

And finally, will there be a day of pampered relaxation in my future? Well, not with black toenail polish, but the spray looks interesting.....,


Thanks for hanging in with me. Hopefully I'll be chatting away again soon enough.

Swish...

Here's an award I'll be giving out once I catch my breath. There are several qualities I greatly admire, and kindness is at the top of the list. So is grace under pressure. And so is a genuine and unique sense of humor.

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I and my poetry are headed to a manuscript conference this weekend--face-to-face meetings and mentoring from publishers and editors. I have mixed feelings about going at this crazy time, but it's an important step for my writing and jb's best friend is coming to help out here at the #9 Ranch.

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Have a good weekend, all. Thanks so much for your support and encouragement. It really helps. I've discovered that once one gets depleted, it's no small feat to recharge. Oh, that reminds me of another quality I admire: patience. And guts. And wanderlust.....

Complicated...

"Care more than others think wise.
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Risk more than others think safe.
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Dream more than others think practical.
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Expect more than others think possible."
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Howard Schultz
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I read this quote tonight on Jimmy James' blog and it seemed to land on my shoulder. I like that I approach life this way, but does it also make me unwise, unsafe, impractical, unrealistic?
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Often I am unfamiliar with Middle Ground. Sometimes I knowingly take a turn to the right or left before I get to Middle Ground. I believe in abundance and I can easily imagine overcoming odds and distance. I don't trust easily, but when I do, I'm committed. When I'm healthy and confident, I would consider this description of me a compliment by friend or foe.
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But I am not quite healthy or confident right now. A few spheres of my life are spinning wildly and I'm tired. It doesn't help at a time like this to question my core beliefs in caring, risking, dreaming and expecting, especially when it leaves me uncertain about my own values, beliefs, strengths.
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So here's where I'm back to: Given what is, what am I to do?
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Back to Acceptance. I may not like what's happening, I may need to figure out how better avoid depletion, I may feel passionately sad about changes I wish weren't so. But now and ultimately, I want to accept at least as well as I choose to care, risk dream and expect. I'm working on it. Today was a better day than yesterday. And tomorrow I'd like to wake up with a better dose of patience and kindness toward myself. I really am a piece of work--I know that--but I do try. For now, let me simply accept that.

Chapter 25

When Alex was ten, her parents took her to the Cambridge Esplanade where the Boston Pops and 200,000 people celebrated the nation’s 200th birthday. Along with her sister Paula and the twins—her family linked three blankets together ten yards from the bank of the Charles River, where they snacked on cokes and sausage and pepper subs and pink cotton candy, and while the Pops played the 1812 Overture, with hundreds of excited festive voices all round them them, they waited for the arrival of dusk. When the sky was finally black, the distant barge prepared to begin firing.
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This was the first time Alex saw fireworks, and these fireworks, planned and operated by a world renowned European pyrotechnic specialist, were utterly spectacular. For thirty continuous minutes, high overhead, encompassing a universe of elaborately designed patterns and circles and arrows soaring upward with impeccably executed timing, a canopy of bangs and pops and rockets unleashing massive pulsating colors--whites and greens and reds and yellows and a few precious blues-- shot up and exploding, all at once, in every corner of the sky.
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When it was over, as they walked back to the Arlington Street T stop, Alex scrunched her face and pulled at her mother’s hand.

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“Mom”, she said, “Why did it feel like it would have been ok if we had all died while those fireworks were going off?”

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Her mother, startled, surprised, stopped and turned to face Alex.

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“Honey, some moments are like that. Some people say they feel that way in the presence of God; or when they do good deeds; sometimes it's when you know in every bone in your body that everything is totally perfect in the world”.

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Before Alex could respond, her mother added, “And honey, when you are lucky enough to have moments like that, you let them change you and you hold on to them as long as you can, because they are gifts from straight from God.”

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Thirty four years later, in a sparceroom, on the left side of two shaky twin beds pushed together, Alex remembered the earnest look on her mother's face that night.

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Initially Lily moved tentatively, careful of a fragility she did not know. But there was no need for relearning or readjustment—their bodies remembered every movement and they swayed in unison, pushing forward together. Silently, Alex let Lily guide them both until they lay side by side, two little vessels beside one another, with no past and no moor left to separate them, no questions left to answer, no boundaries left to navigate, no distant shore left to long for. When they let go to breathe, they were both crying.

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“I love you”, Lily said.

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And for the first time without sorrow or secrecy or second-guessing, Alex, thoroughly depleted, softly whispered back, “Me too, Lily. Me too.”

Hello!

I hope to be coming up for air soon. More chapters on the saga of Lily and Alex soon, too, hopefully.
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If you've been visiting in my absence, thank you.
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My house is currently a combination orthopedic, rehab, and pharmacy store-front. Yikes!
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I can't tell if things have yet turned upward, but I'm hoping!
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:)

Because.....

Not much to explain about this essay, except to acknowledge that some explanation would probably help. I wrote this a few months ago, obviously blending shopping and life into some else all together!

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.....Because I know the most about this, I have to be the one to fold it over and inside out so it still looks and feels like the same soft sweater that fits in every nip and tuck but the trying on and taking off stops for once and all. It’s too late to side step the price tag-- embedded charges with accumulating interest—but still, I wouldn’t change the cost even if I could, which I can’t .
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There are certain steps that must be taken today. There is no return-of-goods counter—just a “you buy it, you own it” policy with fine print I didn’t read then and don’t want to read now. I know I must hem the predestined pleats and complicated seams, iron out past and future wrinkles caused by sitting still too long, air out the fabric so it remains pure and air fresh. Meanwhile, even though I’m dressed to the hilt, I’ll still carry those sticks near and far, carry them because I freely picked them up to begin with, and I will never fail to hold onto even the smallest branch. I’ll be taking one step after another on my way to town, even though the one-day- all-out tag sale is for naught.
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If destiny has another plan, I’ll be there, waiting first in line for the doors to open. But there is no special sale on this day. There is no discount or resizing that can make this anything other than what it is. It is not that. It is only this. And what it is is so inestimable I will spend the better part of my life on the budget plan, making regular payments into an account where withdrawals will be scarce, but worth every penny. I can purchase only what I have paid for, and I can take home only certain sizes even if they’re wrong for the circumstance. I came here freely and knowingly. I knew then there was no warranty, but the fit was so exquisitely perfect I made a deal with destiny. I would carry the sticks and accept the conditions in exchange for the moments when the fit came straight from God’s designer.
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Meanwhile, under a canopy of shining stars, we dance and then we linger. And then, always once more, we are free.

GIVE ME A CLEAN HEART & A BRAND NEW START

The title of this post is taken from a song written by my friend and writing instructor, Nerissa Nields.

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After taking my Mother to the Emergency Room this morning for severe back pain of unknown cause,

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After visiting three nursing homes, one assisted living program, and one rest home;

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After limping around since October and having my surgery cancelled at the last minute due to an insurance safuu,

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After having that knee surgery 4 weeks ago, and still limping around, still feeling pain,

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After gearing up for Holidays that I normally love, and managed to pull off, but without true spirit,

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After the recent death of jb's Mother,

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After planning for jb's upcoming surgery this Friday that will bring her several weeks of serious pain and immobilize her for 4-6 weeks,

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After juggling every which way trying to decide the best temporary situation for my Mother while I care for jb during her hospitalization and beyond,

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After being unavailable and unable to help Jessica and Mike and Ryan when they needed it,

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After not walking Stella in Look Park, or anywhere else, really, since October,

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And after willingly sacrificing most of my privacy and free time for the last 10 weeks;

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After all this: I would think I am thrilled about closing down 2007 and welcoming in 2008.

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Except, I'm too concerned about all of the above to believe that the challenges will lessen anytime soon. Trying circumstances can show you a part of yourself that may or may not surprise you: in my case, I've been wondering if I'm handling things well or poorly. There are many days I feel totally overwhelmed and other days I feel put upon beyond my capacity. I' like to think I'm someone who's good in a crisis. I'm a good multi-tasker, and I know I can develop and implement plans for all occasions, but two bad knees, two Mothers, pain, holidays, lack of exercise and fresh air, loss of routine, real responsibility for the lives and care of others--jeez.

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I wake up each morning, start to smile, since I am a good natured morning person, but as soon as my sore leg hits the floor, or I hear my Mother's walker rumbling down the hall way, I know this is not the same reality I am used to--the one I kind of always liked.....

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This morning jb asked me why I haven't blogged about all this. I'm not sure: I thought my Christmas post a few days back was obviously more "reserved" than I normally am, but by the comments it seems I habitually manage to look at, and then communicate, the silver lining instead of the messy lint.

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What do I wish for in the New Year? Well:

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1. I wish my Mother ends up in a terrific rest home that she really truly likes. I wish it is so terrific that I will not feel that I need to visit her and manage her needs every day.

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2. I wish jb's surgery is behind her and she is easily walking with a renewed bounce in her step and renewed excitement in her heart.

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3. I wish exactly the same for me.

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4. I wish jb and I are able to see and support Jess and her family more regularly.

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5. I wish that Mr. Ryan brightens at the sound of my voice and giggles whenever he is with me.

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6. I wish this is the year I become published,

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7. And I wish whatever is published is viewed by myself and others with the same deep love that has inspired the writing all along.

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8. I wish my dearest best friend and I find it easy to hook up and hang out--here, there, and a surprise or two in between.

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9. I wish the next American President has the natural and acquired skills of communication, collaboration, and conflict resolution.

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10. I wish I will reclaim the body inside me and take better care of it.

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11. I wish I will return to work with the same passion and purpose I've always had.

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12. I wish I will learn to play basic guitar chords and accompany myself singing "Amazing Grace" and "When the Red Red Robin Comes Bob Bob Bobbin' Along"

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13. I wish I am the person I hope I am.

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HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

Chapter 24

Mike was seated in a corner booth furthest from the bar. When Lily walked in, he motioned to her with his right hand and she walked toward him, trying to steady herself by keeping her knees straight. She pushed her bag and coat to the far end of the seat across from Mike, sat down and picked up a fork before she looked at him. When they finally made eye contact, his eyes were tentative and glossed over. He clenched several paper napkins in his left hand, twisting them tightly in front of him, until he saw, even in the dim light of Hough’s Tavern, Lily’s face. She was close to crying herself.
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They looked at each other and said nothing. Mike was braced, Lily was terrified.

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Finally, she said, “Mike, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ve never in my life been involved with someone who was already committed, and I’ve asked myself a thousand times why…”

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“Stop, Lily. I’m not interested in your doing penance at my expense. I’m here because Alex is sick and our children are involved. And our children need the adults to make this crazy situation tolerable. And Alex needs her strength to fight.”

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Mike stopped. He was afraid if he continued he would blow apart all the way to where Danny and a few of the other guys at the bar were trying to ignore him but were periodically glancing over to evaluate his composure.

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“Mike, tell me what I can do. Please, tell me what you think is best”.
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Mike pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. He stared at it for about 10 seconds, it, moving his eyes rapidly from top to bottom, side to side, like one of those old Smith Corona typewriters.

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“Well, first off, Alex will be staying with you. She and I already talked about that, she wants come home on weekends—you know when the kids are more likely to get in trouble, with cars and parties and all, .but I don’t see that, really. I don’t think it’s good for her to move around like that. So I thought it would be good if the kids had dinner with their mother at your house on Fridays, and maybe one other night…that is, if you can handle that.”

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“Of course, Mike” Lily hesitated, “Will they come?”

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Mike scowled."Lily, they will come because they love their mother. They need their mother. And she is sick. So yes, they will come. I’ll make sure they’ll come."

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Lily said nothing.

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Mike continued, “You have to understand the kids are pretty upset. If they’re not nice to you, cut them some slack. And do whatever you can to spare Alex from feeling in the middle. I’m not able to do that, but surely you ought to be able to. As for myself, I don’t want her agonizing about her decision The more comfortable she is, the stronger she’ll be to fight the cancer. And that’s paramount important. So I want you to know, not right now, but sometime, I will try to be in the same room with you. For the sake of my family. Just don’t stick my face in it, Lily”

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Mike saw the broken look on Lily’s face. “Listen, I know you aren’t out celebrating. But this has got to be easier for you than it is for me”.

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“Mike, I never intended for this to happen. I know you love each other. I will never interfere with that. I can’t explain or excuse myself. For the last six years I tried every minute to move on. I knew she was with such a good man, with her family. I wouldn’t have interfered Mike. I’m so sorry it’s come to this. I love her too, Mike.”
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Mike straightened his back and shoulders. He looked at Lily directly, firmly.

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“Listen Lily, she’s got to get herself to remission and stay there. Maybe someday we can all be the weirdo one-happy-family. Or maybe she’ll…” He stopped, paused just a second.

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“The kids will come around. I know they will. And I know you will help her with her needs. But I just want to be sure we understand one another: I want Alex to live. I’ll do what’s needed to help her with that. The rest of this mess: I’ll deal with it after”.
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He paused. “Who will stay with her when you’re at work?”

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"I’m taking the rest of the semester off. The next semester too if I have to. I’m working on a book I can write from home. And Alex said the woman—Carmen, is it?—will continue to come.”

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“Good” Mike said. “She wakes up sometimes pretty disoriented. You’ll need to keep an eye, ok?”

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“Mike, you are an incredible man”, Lily said.

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Mike looked down at his paper.

“Chemo and the Healing Circles?. Whose going to handle those? I could still do Thursday afternoons and Mondays.”

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Lily is crying.

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“Mike, should she move back home with you?. Tell me.”

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“No ” he snapped. “Just don’t leave her alone for now, OK?”

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“I won’t.”

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“Ok, call me if you need to, ok? See you around, ok?”

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With that, Mike looked straight at Lily, forcefully dropped his chin and nodded, threw a twenty dollar bill on the table, picked up his jacket, nodded again, and headed to the bar, where Danny’s dark brown eyes were guiding him to the only empty stool, his hands patting it, waiting for his friend to settle in and have a beer.

All Things Beautiful

It's been 18 months. This girl named Stella is a safe happy dog. If I could ask one wish of you in 2008, it would be to do whatever you can to help abused and neglected animals. Stella was abandoned, sick and terrified when she was found as a stray. It took 6 months before she could relax enough to let us touch and love her. Today, no doubt: love heals!

This has not been one of my easiest or most festive holidays: too many challenges at one time. But it's still the little things that make me happy. Here: a butterfly in my Christmas stocking, a dozen tulips from my best friend; JB's greens put in little salt and pepper shakers and lined up on the kitchen window.

I would gladly give up every present under the tree as long as I could have my stocking. Here's our family stockings which, by the way, we all made by our own hands one Sunday a few years ago: Jess, Mike, JB and me. And this package to No-name and BB: that's grandmother lingo for JB and yours truly.

My mother and I made 13 dozen cookies. JB and I then glazed and decorated each one. I feel happy to give a gift box of cookies to someone: it might be a friend or neighbor or colleague or relative or tradesperson or the mailman.

JB cleaned out the refrigerator just in time for my arrival with groceries to cover 4 major meals and several small ones. Over three days, we made a full brunch from eggs to fruit salad, chili, chili-cheese cornbread, guacamole, garlic bread, raviolis from scratch, and turkey with all the fixings. Normally we might have thrown in a holiday party too, but this year we feel fortunate to do what we did.

Drumroll: Here he is: one day old and now almost one year old. Mr. Ryan is inquisitive, happy active and darling. We got to spend 24 hours at one time with him and loved all of it.

Guess who this is? At the time and for years afterwards, I saw myself as a geeky awkward frump. Now, I can be more supportive and compassionate to this little third grader of a girl.

This is simply one of my all time favorite pictures: Jess and Rosie.

If she's deemed to be sufficiently safe and independent, we've found a wonderful wonderful home-like environment for my Mom. We'll know this week. If you are so inclined, your prayers that she and the home are compatible would be very much appreciated.

Here's a random two shots of my bookcase. For no reason other than I love books and I thought you might like to see some of them.

This outside-of-moleskine original "Best Friends Don't Grow on Trees" adorns my livingroom.I happen to be blessed with a best friend who is a fantastic artist, not mention a wildly uniquely stimulating and terrific human being.

And I am equally blessed with a fantastic terrific partner who wraps fantastic terrific presents. Here she's recycled last year's Christmas cards (see your card, Ces?) and embellished with her never-ending stash of ribbons.

And finally: we think Esther drank too much and inappropriately dragged along little Mildred AND the Christmas angel. None of them has moved since yesterday......

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO A GREAT GROUP OF WONDERFUL PEOPLE. THANK YOU FOR MAKING

A DIFFERENCE IN MY LIFE IN SO MANY WAYS.

Chapter 23

Lily did not easily spill her emotions. Anyone who met her would be struck first by her intelligence, then her poise, and then her kindness, but not unnoticed would also be her calm exterior that assured that this is a person you would want on a desert island with you, or stuck in a elevator, or sitting beside you in the intensive care waiting room. Lily was not emotional, per se, but she was steady and real.
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When Lily finally made the call, she had rehearsed what she wanted to convey. But it was all so impossible that she found herself bracing the coffee table while she dialed the Fourtier family number.
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“Mike, it’s Lily.”
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Silence.
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“Mike, I don’t know if it’s even right to make this call, and I know you must hate me a thousand times over, but….I was wondering….could we meet, Mike?”
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“Why, Lily?” Mike's tone was not closed tight but vulnerably wrapped in self protection.
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“Mike, I don’t know how—even if-- we can make this work and I will do anything I can to make it easier. You, the kids, Alex—I wish I could….”
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“What, Lily? You wish it had never happened? Well, I wish that too. But you thought about that too late”
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Lily’s started to speak, stopped, and then quietly said,
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“Mike, will you meet me?”
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“Where?”
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“Houghs?”
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“When?”
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“You tell me Mike and I’ll be there”
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“Let’s get it over with. Tonight at 6?” And then as an afterthought, "Is there someone to stay with Alex?"
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Lily paused. She had not expected this and she had to make arrangements so Alex would not be alone.
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“Yes, Mike, there is. Tonight at 6. Thank you, Mike”.

Chapter 22

Lily’s heart cartwheeled as she walked the thirty or so steps leading to the entrance of the Mount Holyoke Women’s Center. She handed her ticket to a polished-looking overly gleeful woman dressed in blue taffeta with a green speckled scarf around her neck. She checked her coat and dropped a dollar in the tip jar. She then looked straight ahead, straightened her shoulders, swallowed hard, and walked through the doors into a vastly oversized room with a 25 foot ceiling and giant black and white photographs of famous women covering the far left wall.

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The room was humming with women—hundreds—many huddled around three long tables in the center of the room, where dozens of appetizers had been tastefully prepared and arranged. Some women wore gowns, some tuxes, some dresses, others Ann Tailor or Brooks Brothers pants with fitted blouses, a few jeans with slightly dressy sweaters. Lily had struggled before she chose a pale blue Liz Clairborne silk dress, which fell just below her knees. She accessorized it with a thin black suede belt with tassles hanging from it, and a blue and purple scarf tied loosely around her neck. She had purposely chosen black tights and black flats in case she had to quickly move in one direction or another.

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The Queen City Prom, as Lily and Alex had long ago dubbed it for no particular reason, was actually an annual fundraiser sponsored by Mount Holyoke College to benefit local women’s shelters and services. Attended by several hundred mostly professional women, the event was close to a black tie event in substance and style. This included a first class band—this year the Dykaroos, and a swinging dance floor where couples and singles gaily swung to and fro, together and alone, unencumbered by the expectations of heterosexual decorum.
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Lily had not attended Queen City since her break up with Alex. This had not been a good thing, given she was on the Board of the Woman’s Center and rarely refused her money or presence in support of women and families in need. But this event was one of a few activities she simply could not do. She was confused and unsure why or how she had managed to come tonight.
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Entering the carvernous room, her eyes scanned and darted every which way, looking for Alex, her 5 foot 7 inch 145 pound beloved former soul mate who had walked out on her by phone six years ago and for some reason decided they should reconnect before she unceremoniously died.
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Lily was concerned that her dress hung on her too limply, which is pretty much how she felt internally. She had no idea what to do, how to walk, where to keep her hands, or what in the name of sweet Jesus world she would even say to Alex, on the assumption, of course, that Alex was even there. Maybe she wasn’t, Lily thought: she may have backed out, or been too sick. These were excruciating thoughts—that she had come and Alex had not—thoughts just formulating in torturous detail when Lily spotted Paula.

Paula stood approximately 60 yards in front of her, nervously standing by herself in the far left corner of the room, looking like a missionary at the Playboy mansion. Lily wondered why Alex’s heterosexual Catholic sister would be here at all, but before her brain could compute a reason so obvious and simple, she spotted Alex. At first she appeared as a tiny speck, surrounded by dozens of animated heads towering above her, but there she was, her head level with Paula's waist. That’s odd”, Lily thought. Alex was staring straight ahead at the main door. She had to have seen Lily enter.
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Lily was frozen. Still, she knew she had to move, so she took a rapid succession of small unsteady steps until Alex was 30 feet in front of her. She stopped, stunned: there was glorious hell-bent Alex, in a wheelchair, a silk purple bandanna around her head, large silver hoop earrings dangling through, thin as a rail, pale and pasty, and still radiant. Paula protectively stood beside her sister, looking like she might cry.
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Once Lily had asked her orthopedic surgeon why she did not remember losing consciousness during arthroscopic surgery. He explained that although she had indeed been conscious and interactive for a full five minutes that she could not recall, her brain shut down before it could store those moments into memory. This is what was happening now as she grasped the reality of seeing Alex. Her brain had totally shut down.

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Lily did not know until afterwards that she flung her purse on the floor and ran to her at full speed, welling tears obscuring her view, reaching her by instinct alone. Lily was kneeling in front of Alex, staring into eyes she would know anywhere. It was just seconds—not more than one or two probably-- before she put her arms around her neck and deeply nestled her face into her--an exhausted dove landing safely after an arduous flight home.
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For a flickering moment Alex looked startled, tentative. But her brain had fared no better: her breathing was irregular but determined. She lifted her thin arms, clasped her hands together, and locked them around Lily’s neck. Neither of them moved or spoke. They were frozen in their embrace, buried in the warmth of each other’s skin, recalling scents and sensations so familiar it was as if no time had passed at all; as if they might stay this way forever, oblivious to everything around them
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Then, Alex laughed--it was the sound of jingling coins in a happy pocket.

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“Oh Lily, oh Lily” she said. “I imagined everything, over and over, but I never guessed that you would run like that. That was so good, Lily."

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Alex’s eyes glistened. “Let me look at you. Oh my God, you’ve lost weight. You look terrific. Oh Lily”.

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And then, as an afterthought, she added, “I don’t look so good, huh?”
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Lily was speechless. She cleared her throat and tried to pull herself together. She muffled a quiet sob that would not stop and she awkwardly wiped her eyes with her scarf. She tried to stand but Alex would have none of it. She held on tightly.

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“No Lily. No. Stay here. Hey,” Alex said, “I bought you a drink. Here. Drink it fast. Then I’ll buy you another”.

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“Alex...”, Lily cleared her throat again and began to speak.

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“Wait Lily”, Alex said. “First let’s remember who we are together. Then let me apologize and you can call me an asshole. And then we’ll talk. Ok?”

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“Oh, and I’d like to let Paula leave this den of lesbians now as long as you don’t mind helping me with my personal needs”.

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Lily smiled. She was shocked at how relaxed she felt. It was as though she had returned to the weeping willow tree of her childhood, where she would linger for hours, playing with her imaginary friends, feeling invisible and invincible.

She threw her head back and laughed out loud,

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“Jesus”, Lily said, “I don’t even get a moment to fall apart before I have to be on bathroom duty?”

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“Life’s a bitch, Lily”. Alex grinned back. “But then again sometimes you get the chance to do it right.”

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Before Lily could say another word, Alex smiled again. “Oh, and Lily… my suitcase. Do you mind if we put it in your car?”

Chapters 20 & 21

Chapter 20

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It had been several weeks since Lily first held Alex’s letter. She had read most of it, but not the final paragraph: she simply could not bear to face information that had the potential to disrupt, dishevel, dishearten, perhaps even destroy everything it had taken her years to recraft. If you had asked her 22 days ago, Lily would have confidently told you that this was no longer possible: afterall, she would go days, weeks even without thinking of Alex at all, she had stopped including her in her prayers, and she no longer revisited all the ‘what if’s” that life had thrown at her broken parts—far too many ‘what if’ volleyballs coming at her with such speed that she’d repeatedly forgotten to duck.
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But today, at the moment when memory was intersecting with instinct, Lily was again not sure she would remember to duck. It wasn’t that she hadn’t learned to swerve. There was no way to avoid occasionally hearing about Alex, but her friends knew to avoid the subject altogether and on the occasion when a casual acquaintance mentioned that Alex’s business had grown to a dozen employees, that Andy had made the baseball regionals, or that Mike’s company was being bought out by Warren Buffet, Lily would simply shrug her shoulders and say, “Yes, isn’t that wonderful”. Only once had she carelessly risked an actual encounter with Alex: she was at a Woman’s Conference when mid-way through she realized how easily Alex could be there too. Quickly she had scanned the room, checked the attendant list, and made note of all the exit doors. Only then did she tuck away her vigilance. But that kind of slip was rare: Lily fastidiously and consciously took active steps to move on and forget. She did this because she believed this was best for both of them, and she was positive this was best for herself. The result of these extraordinary efforts—a professional woman’s version of underground hiding-- had paid off, that is, until three weeks ago.
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Now, on a Sunday morning at 7:43 am, Lily sat on her bed with Alex’s scribbly handwriting in front of her. She had just one remaining paragraph to read.
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She stared at the last page of the letter for several minutes before she reached for her reading glasses and placed them on the rim of her nose. She glanced to be sure her warm cup of tea was on the nightstand where she had left it.
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Then, at 7:46 Lily finished the letter.

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“All this time I’ve wondered if I could or would truly accept never seeing you again. I’ve always known how badly I hurt you, but it’s been a slow painful miserable process for me to truly grasp the cost to myself. Ambivalence is a terrible way to live, Lily. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But somewhere in between hearing my diagnosis and re-evaluating my life, my struggle stopped. Just like that. It’s a hell of a time to tell you, Lily—I can only imagine what you are thinking as you read this—here I am a sick possibly terminal pretty hairless thin-to-the bones pathetic facsimile of myself contacting you at the worse possible time, I know, but please call me. It’s complicated, it takes giant boules on my part to do this now, but here’s what it is Lily: I’ve never really left, and if you’re willing, I would like to be where you are.”

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Always,
Alex

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Heat rushed to Lily’s cheeks. She remembered what it felt like when she was in first grade and rode a merry-go-round for the first time: the terror of sitting four feet atop of that bobbing carved horse with its wild teeth, the dizziness when it kept going up and down, around and around and around. She felt that way now—the room was spinning and she was spinning within it. She once again put the letter in her underwear drawer, sat on her bed for what seemed like hours, then, finally, slowly, she stood up, put on her sweats, grabbed Louie’s leash, and without catching her breath, pushed the two of them toward the river for a long walk—three times around the trail. It was all surreal.
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“Alex” she kept saying, “Oh, God, Alex”. She shook her head from side to side in disbelief, unable to entertain even a corner of hope that Alex might really be back. Then, on that river walk, with the sun in front of her, with Louie delighted by the quickened pace, with the path eerily calm, Lily--competent, clear headed, studious, serious, reliable Lily—cried so deep and so hard that her tears surpassed the insurmountable throbbing that had begun at the tip of her head and traveled all the way to her stomach. Once again, no matter what she did or didn't do, Lily would never be the same.

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Chapter 21

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Three days later; while sifting through her mail enroute to class, another letter found its way to Lily’s unsuspecting hands.

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“Hey!” it began, “Ok, so you haven’t answered my letter. I know you, Lily--you would have communicated somehow if you definitely did not/could not/would not want to see me. So I’m now forced to revert to Plan B. I’m enclosing a ticket for the Queen City hullabaloo on May 15. It’s still at Mount Holyoke. Remember when we went, Lily? I’ll be wearing the same outfit. I’ll be looking for you. This ticket is not cheap. Come on now….

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Love
Alex

Thursday 13: Mostly SNOW

The first big snowstorm of the season hit today. There's something about us New Englanders: we always over-react to the first snow. The weather folks are so giddy tracking the storm that they easily convince most of us to get off the roads before the plows even have a chance. That means traffic delays and pile-ups, and that happened today bigtime. My ten minute trip from the grocery store took one hour. Once home, however, there is nothing nicer than enjoying a major storm when you don't have somewhere to be.


1. Here's the view from the front door.


2. The back door.
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3.The back door hours later
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4. The kitchen front door



5.The kitchen back door
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6. The dining room.
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7. The bedroom.
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8.The front hall
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9. The couch......

and while I'm at it, here's what I've been up to this week, excluding chores, work, and one thankfully improving knee
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10. These are fresh scallops. I bought them for $ 10.99 a pound at a small fish market, covered them with breadcrumbs, and sauteed them in butter and scallions--the best scallops I have ever had.
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11. My mother and I made five dozen peanut butter cookies today--the ones with a Hersey's Kiss in the middle of each one. The recipe was for seven dozen but my Mother refused to roll the dough smaller than she was willing to. Plus she just about threw them every which way in her effort to be quick and efficient. I give most of these away each year--always to Jess, often to friends and neighbors.
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12.This is not a good shot, but yesterday at my door a fabulously delivered box arrived with a dozen red tulips in it, complete with vase. What a gift. Deep love lives.

13. And finally, speaking of gifts, guess what this is? Ok, I'll tell you the beginning: it's an assortment of cards. But not just any cards.....