It’s odd, this. Unwavering yet intermittent. It comes, goes, grips at once like a flu and at another moment, unremarkable. Symptoms are scattered, inconsistent. There are patches of day in which the void is so whole, so pronounced, distinct, yet life happens just as it has, to do task lists tallied and Blockbuster DVDs returned. The gas tank is filled at a familiar spot, staples purchased at stops that provide the most ease. Shared spots? Perhaps. I’ve no idea. Can you imagine? It’s odd, that.
There is much to share in the moment. The woman across the way has lost her twin weight. Do you remember her? Chili pepper is a color that looks good on me. The large is too big on top. Travel is planned and honors have been bestowed. Family members excel and the new year news is indeed positive. A friend may move south and another strikes up a familiar band. Good things, as I say. Does that stir something within? Do you remember?
Do you remember me? The shade has changed but the rest remains the same. The spark I suspect once intrigued is intact. I’m in motion. I’m reading and watching. Writing. I’ve questions about the most ordinary of days, about itineraries and meals, photographs and followers. I answer them for myself and hope I’ve come close. I trust I have. I laugh and plan and hold my own when least expected. Take care not to confuse action with content.
There is anger. Anger tempered by understanding, a frustrating combination. It’s very adult, of course, recognizing when life is more important than you are, for the moment or forever. Adult doesn’t matter much when the child in you wants connection, warm skin, discovery.
The tie is understood, inherent to us being, of course, just as are Tuesdays and the burn of a hot stove. It all is so. Quite simple, really. A promise from both sides exists in word and thought that we’re there if the other should be in need. Only a part of me remains confused. If not now, when could we possibly need the other more?