Racing Homeward

Benny had to reason with herself.

Where should these thunderclouds come from?

Her tears fell for what seemed like the hundredth analogy of her life and she was sick with the poetry- sick of the words that were designed to cover up our truth. The truth of sadness. The truth that feeling is only what we make it because of our heart, our minds. Why wouldn't her heart die? Why couldn't Benny just be another faceless ape in a jungle of innocence and ignorance?

She should be- she could be- she would be.

Benny, like she had in so many more touching scenes before this one, which, in truth, only lasted five minutes and twenty- three seconds in a lifetime measured in years, folded her handkerchief one last time.

"The more we love, the more we hurt"

The words stung her acutely. It was a heavy truth.

Goodbye, sweet, young, Benny. Goodbye to the Benny who thought she had felt every pain the world had to offer her.

Hello to a new Benny. A sad Benny. A Benny who has failed her most dreaded test without the chance at another.

Goodbye, Ed. You have taken with you the last of what was a fleeting youth, at any rate.

I almost forgot already....

but here is my one, lone, shining moment of intellect for the day:

Please turn your headlights on while driving in the rain. Unless of course you would prefer to die in a fiery crash.

Now that that is over I can give you a short list, like I always do when I am too busy for you.

• I love The Boy. We are making plans and holding hands and kissing lips and... taking tips?
• Soon, two years will have flown by. And You will be just a flutter of a memory in a waking nightmare
• I know, I owe you Mr. Nice. Hold onto your breeches. That is, if you wear any.
  
  

A Weak Attempt

I will attempt to write something- anything- everyday here for the next thirty days. Mark my words: I will fail, but success is not the goal.

Thoughts are the goal. Free flowwing, warm, glowing thoughts. An inventory of never ending thoughts being marked with simple symbols meant to represent everyhting we are.

We shall see. To begin, anyhow, these are the short words i have for you with one thought:

All light is true and all clarity is as yet unblemished.

Few Words, Many Loves.

A list. Because I can.

Things I love, in no particular and non-comprehensive.

Google.
Sunny, hot days full of nothing but sleep and tanning.
The ocean.
Day dreaming.
The Boy.

His charms
His arms
His voice
His masculine desire to protect me
His quietness
His playfulness
Blushing.
New school supplies.
Literature in general.
Hand sanitizer.
Cafe Mochas.
Sleep.
Endless Summers.
Very hot, very long, very bubbly Baths.
Parties. Specifically tea parties.
Cheesy pop music.

A Big Change Happening in Small Steps.

"Benny- Tomorrow is a big day for you, I suppose?" She leaned over her work, squinting in the dark light of the kitchen, afraid to get up and turn on the light should she risk forgetting how to read.

"What?" Dazzed, as usual.

"Tomorrow. The case. You go to settlement tomorrow, right?"

"Correct."

She shook her head at an imaginary question and then forgot to finish her work because she was thinking and obsessing and wondering. Will tomorrow be the answer Benny has waited two and a half years for, or will tomorrow just be another tomorrow in this string of endlessly dreamy days? Days when reality is replaced by what she has done, what she is running from, and what she is forgetting.

Oh Benny, what has this journey come to- an end, or simply a plot twist?

The Uncertain Adventures of a Certain Lady

The Boy and I have been talking lately about love and life and things we want and need from eachother.

We have decided that things between us are amazing. The Boy and I don't agree on everything. We don't have every detail figured out. But, if things continue on in this quiet, blissful way, we will certainly be headed towards a finite decision. An end and a begining. An answer.

Is that why we date? Do we date to answer some cosmic question of loneliness and and vulnerablity? Are we just simply pack animals in need of others of our likeness to fend off the wolves?

I think we are here to be in love.
To find love.
To learn how to communicate in love.

But maybe we just need someone to make the cold nights warmer.
That is ok with me too.

The Earth is not entirely dry nor entirely pointy, My Prince.

After an amazing week with you, I thought I would write you a little personal note about why I love you. I figured you could stand to read a few words, see a few thoughts, hear a few whispers. And here they are.

Thank you. Thank you for always making me comfortable. This vacation wasn't our speed- Vegas has far too many lights and sounds and sights and it is too dry. but with you, everything seemed more comfortable, more like home, more life like. You gave water to dry land, sun to artificial trees, and a voice to the howling wind.

I love the fact that you told me you love me over 100 times. It is so nice to hear it out loud. That isn't to say that you don't tell me often enough typically, it just made for a lot of special moments.

You look like someone I would be with. There was something in your smile, in the way your shirt fell on your shoulders, in you stature that made me thankful to be out with such a handsome fellow.

Waking up with you is always a special treat. Every time I have ever woken up near you, you have seemed to have been waiting for me with sweet anticipation. Laying there, propped up on your hand, smiling down at me while you wipe stray hairs from my face, I felt like I was in a bright, white washed scene from a movie.

And I am sorry. I am sorry you're not dating a single girl. I am sorry we could not just up and get married in Vegas. I am sorry The Ex called and ruined our quiet stillness. Our game of House. I am sorry for everything I cannot make better with just a click of my heels.

But it will all work out.

And Lord willin' the crick don't run dry....

This is not a dream.

"Don't be shy, today may be your last chance"

That is a direct quote from my facebook status a few days ago. For some reason, I had been caught up in this overwhelming depression. I was being crushed under midterms and expectations and general fed-up-ness with my life when I realized this thought:

Today might just be my last chance.

Life is so unpredictable. God, if there is one thing I know for sure, life is unpredictable. Life is not simply unpredictable, it is fearfully and wonderfully unpredictable.

Yesterday was our last chance to gather near our dear friend- to wish him well, to kiss his cheek, to listen to his stories, to make him comfortable.

Yesterday the world lost a shining beacon of hope in a sea of general malaise.

Yesterday, TJ Roberts said "Goodnight world" one last sweet serene time.

If you didn't know TJ, I am sorry.
If you did know TJ, weren't we lucky?

TJ was a bright young man with a passion for just about everything. He loved his job and was very talented. He loved his friends and never left even one person behind. He loved his family and thought of them always.

Tj was the kind of man who was a dozen different people all rolled into one.

He was a professional mentor, always taking the time to teach and share his genius with those around him. In an extremely competative and dying industry, he reached out to everyone he knew and leant whatever help he could, even if that meant taking time out of his own schedule to do so.

He was the life of the party, always running, always laughing, always talking, always brightening the room before him. He had a way of making everyone in the room feel as though he was thankful they came, thankful that he was blessed with their presence, happy to have guests and friends all around.

He was an amazing brother. Both biologically and spiritually. Everyone was TJ's friend from the moment he met them and every friend was family. He had an answer for every problem, and antecdote for every situation, a shoulder for every tear. His love for everyone was not contrived. It didn't stem from anything remotely selfish. It was pure and genuine. TJ loved you with a passion and wanted to see you prosper.

TJ was a son to many mothers, making each one proud and warm in his way. My own mother loved him dearly as a son and a friend. they shared car rides togehter often and when they did, my mom's resounding thoughts were always,"That boy can talk, but I love him." When his brother had his beautiful baby boy Dominic, it felt like my mom was the first person TJ called. He was so desperate to send her a picture of the baby that he took one with his phone and sent it to mine so I could show her. Her first reaction? "God help us, he's a little TJ!"

God help us, we all needed a little TJ.

There are a dozen regrets- moments we did not spend with him, calls we didn't return, thank you's we never said. There is a lot of hurt and angry feelings that a man so young, so great, so influential in his way would be taken so unfairly and so suddenly.

But in the light of this tragedy, I offer you all this thought:

Don't be shy, this could be your last chance.

Your last chance to touch some one.
Your last chance to thank some one.
Your last chance to love some one.
Your last chance to apologize.

Return the phone calls, accept the dinner invitations, cry on their shoulder, lend them an ear, run that errand for them, answer those texts, friend them on facebook, send those emails- do whatever it takes because today, right here, this moment is the moment. Today is the day.

Mima once said, "You only go this way once, so find a way to go."

Thank you, TJ.

Please don't Breaka my Fingahs.

I owe you all so many posts, I am afraid I have a hit out on me.

I'm not sure what is worse, having a hit out on me or worrying that it would be extremely low.

I promise I will resume your regularly scheduled postings after I stop losing my mind over everything seemingly all at once.

Here is what you have to look forward to:

The Boy's Sidekick in life, as yet unnamed
Money troubles. What do they call this thing, a recession?
Girlie problems. Damn being female.
Young John and Benny, of course.
The Boy, obviously
The Ex- which is never really fun but I just have a lot to say on that front. Mostly old news, but I feel it, so I must write it.
A million other thought, feelings, droolings, dreamings, schemings, and seemings.

For now, Back to you in the studio.

My Main Squeeze

Happy Valentine's day!

I wanted to give you all a peice of me without making you all puke. If it is at all possible.

The Boy and I have been together for something like ten months, three weeks, one day and two hours. Not that I am counting of\r anything. More iportantly, here are just a few random things I know/love/think about him and his wonderfullness.

1. He smells wonderful. Like a man. If theat makes any sense. He smells like his manliness with a splash of axe. It's amazing. It might just be amazing to me, but amazing nontheless.

2. His voice is soft and low and completely pleasing.

3. When he touches me, I can feel his fingertips on my heart.

4. His kisses are like wine.

5. He never gets worked up. Not over anything. He's never been mean nor tried to be boss.

6. He's a nice boy. My mom likes him. My mom has only ever liked one boyfriend of mine- I'll give you one guess- yes indeed it was Mr. Future Millionaire. Lame. I know.

7. He hates typical love songs. Things like "God bless the broken road" and "When you say nothing at all." So does he hate all sappy love songs? Absolutely not. Some of his favorite late night delights include "All of me" and "Moonlight Serenade."

8. He loves me. Wholly and completely without question. I know this because he tells me. I also know this in the light in his eyes, in his preference for me over many others. In his smile when I kiss his nose, in his blush when I tell others how awesome he is.

9. He has never rushed anything. His kisses are slow and warm. He holds my hands as long as I like. He talks to me, or listens to me talk long past bed time.

10. He's just so tall!

All of this considered, I can't imagine that any one ever stopped loving him once they knew him. All of this considered I understand why he gets hit on everywhere we go. Why everyone wants to set him up with their daughter, granddaughter and bank teller. I understand wy people say that as they mention his name they could get a tan from the light of my face. What I don't understand is why he is so in love with me. Me, the lunatic. Ultra clingy never satisfied me. Me who sees ten sides to everything.

Silly boy....

Somewhere in the crowd there's You.

You know there is no rest for the sorrowful.

Everytime I think I am over it, it haunts my doorstep yet again.

I you haven't guessed, I am watching Mamma Mia and fighting back tears through the whole thing.

If only true bastardom were this beautifully musical and wonderfully colorful.

But it's not. What it is is this long cold loneliness that numbs you from the deepest part of your essence out until you can't feel a thing. Not the hundred of tears you cry. Not the heartache. Not the anger. Not the utter desolation. Just a great big nothingness.

It is a question that holds you prisoner.
It is a bloody stump that never heals.
It is a never ending balancing act.

A struggle between not thinking about it ever and agonizing over the huge gaping hole in your heart.

No fun disco music. No beautiful island. No big white wedding.

Just a sadness.

Sweet Serenity's Bliss is in the Shining Eyes of His Love

Young John Something

Young John is a five. He is average. I can't give you any specs- I will not bore you with a height or hair color, a build or symmetrical analysis. But I will tell you he is average. Neither here nor there. Not enough to stop and turn to, but just enough to be caught up in conversation with.

Benny is also a five. Over the years, her hair has fallen flat and deepened in color. She has excess weight that just won't go away around her waist, on her arms, and her breasts are a little too large for her frame. She is taller than she should be, her skin is whiter than that of her family, and her eyes a muttle concoction of hazel, green and brown.

Young John did not peacock out to attract her. And Benny did not sashay his way to seduce him. Young and Benny met, shook hands and began talking their way into love. Maybe they are just fives, but they are the most natural couple, their ease lending itself as a viewing aid.

With all of these average qualities, what would make people take a second look at either one? Why do men consistently try to convince Benny that they are indeed a better choice for her? Why do women continue to talk to Young, stroke his arm, and smile seductively his way? It is Young and Benny.

Together, they are irresistible. Young and Benny walk into a bar, a party, a function and suddenly the life changes. They seem to consume all of the energy in a room. To create a circuit within and around themselves, attracting every light, every atom, all of the heat built up around them. Together, they can stop conversations, turn head and make the most solid couple jealous. What is it? What is that magic? What do people look to Young and Benny for?

It is the definition of the unknown. It is the turn of a hip, the toss of her hair, the light on his face. It is the silence in their speech, the movement of their thought. They walk together in a rhythm that can be heard for miles. They talk to other people in a room, parallel to one another, separate, but going in the same divine direction. I have seen Young and Benny go to a party together, without saying so much as two words to one another and everyone can see they belong together.

They come as a pair. Young will think and Benny will speak. Benny will thirst and Young will drink. It's uncanny, really. Uncanny and impossible to put into words to either one. If you ask Young why he loves her so, he will just smile- or beam rather- and say "Well, you've met her." Ask Benny what she and Young have in common and equally as coy she smiles and simply says,"Each other."

Benny doesn't take Young too seriously and Young dotes over her in an embarrassing but intuition driven way. They keep the balance of all of the energy in the universe on the tips of their lips by drawing back and overextending in places no other typical relationship thinks of. What training is there for this type of love? Where is the manual- what is their secret?

I am not Young or Benny, just an observer. But I would say it is simply fate. Dumb luck that they should be so utterly compatible. A simple stacked deck of aces.

Yes. They are simply luck bastards. The rest of us will go on quite cold and alone in comparison, but not Young and Benny. The real question though is not why they love each other so much, but if they were to split, would they, individual, make two other people just as happy? Are they cosmically blessed individuals with the capacity for greatness as their own universe? Or is it the case that they together set the room a little brighter, make the wine a little sweeter and the nights a little warmer?

Who will ever know, except those who have lost their chance to love one of the worlds most content.

Tu lo sai, lo sai crudel

We were talking in my Health 140 class about when to stop giving CPR or other first aid medical treatment.

My teacher's answer was "At the point of exhaustion- when it would endanger your life to continue"

And then I realized...

I was exhausted with you way back in the day. So why do I keep breathing for our relationship?

I took a true mental self portrait a few days ago. I am at a point where I had some time to re-assess my life, devise some new goals, and redefine my expectations. Here is what I realized:

I am carrying around toxic baggage from years past.
I still feel, soome where in my heart, like I need your love and approval to exist and be well- adjusted.
I need to either get past my emotions about certain people or remove them from my napsack of self doubt, self reproach, and other detriments.
I feel like I need to tell you, but I have to let that feeling go to.
That The Boy is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and he has exquisite timing to help me through the previous feelings.

Here are some things that I want to tell a few people, but will never get a chance to.

I miss you. I am sorry for every thank you note I never sent, every prayer I never said, every tear I never cried, every phone call I never made. I will see you eventually, but sometimes I don't feel worthy.
You are the reason I am a christian. That is the reason I will always love you in some way.
I never loved you. I loved the idea of you.
Maybe, some part of me got married as a rebound. Not a rebound to any one person, a rebound to an idea.
I want you to be happy, but I don't want any part of it.
I am very dissapointed that you would think me capable of malice. You know me. You know who I am.
The day you told me that you didn't like me when you first met me because I had all the answers in math class I realized you weren't my kind of people.
No, I will never like you. You creep me out and there is nothing you can do to un-do the weird eerie sort of pain you caused me in our tumultuous past.

I feel better knowing that life will go on just like it always has whether or not I address these people.

I also feel better knowing that these gripes, painful memories and old baggage will not hinder my life, my love or my soul from gorwing and flowing an developing.

But I know it's time. Time to get you out. Time to beat the rug and get all the dust out. Time to wipe the mirror and see me again. Time to relax in a hot bath and feel my frozen fingers. Time to stop the lame allusions and get to work!

Yes, it's true.

"But Girl, are you sure?"


There are a million and one things to think about when saying yes to someone. For one, What are they really asking you to do? Is a simple lunch date to you really the best chance this person has to collect some of your hair for the alter in their closet?

By saying yes when someone asks you to babysit are you really signing your life away to an ungrateful mom who will call you every Friday night?

By telling someone you love them, does that mean that life is over? That you have made a choice between that person and every other passionate dream you may have ever had?

When I asked the guy that set The Boy and I up for an account of The Boy, I had no idea his answer would be "He's tall." But that was the perfect answer for the beginning of the most calming, delightful, and comfortable relationship I have ever been involved in.

Last night I was trying to figure out why we work so well together. Turns out, it is written in the stars. Taurus and Scorpio are destined to be a loyal, formidable, fantastically passionate couple. He is a strong, constant earth sign with a determined nature. His love of possession and my love of power make us a pair to be reckoned with in the job market. I will teach him to never settle and to always wonder at life and he will teach me that sometimes life is just a four letter word. In short, we have always been intended. If you believe all that mumbo-jumbo.

The question is, what does it mean to say yes to this boy? To say "Yes, I love you?" To say "Yes I will love you?"

To say "Yes" to The Boy is to whisper his name onto every doorstep. To wear his heart on my sleeve. To have people see his light on my face.

To say "Yes" is to take this man in front of me and see him for what he is- stripped of florid poetry, devoid of sparkling entreaties, silent and waiting for one word.

To say "Yes" is to hold him in my heart, to let him walk beside me, to be unafraid to show him all of my faults, to share with him every thought he begs and some he could never imagine.

To trust.
To want.
To share.
To see.

To say "Yes" is to turn to him and admit that I am unsure of what it means but I am willing to find the definition together.

A Laugh and a Moment of Pride

"And then He walked right up to me and I started to melt-"

"Ooo, melting into a pool of desire, I knew this story would get good sometime," Young playfully twisted her long hair around his finger and laughed as she shoved his shoulder. If he were a marble, the force would have rolled him right out of bed. But he wasn't, and besides, his leg was intertwined with hers.

"No- no Young not at all. Melting like jello melts on a hot day. First I lost my edges, sort of blurred. Then my form shrank and shrank. Not into a puddle, but into a blob."

"Ooo, melting into a blob of Benny. I knew this story would get good sometime," Young knew that if he didn't pace his jokes, she might take him seriously and stop talking in fear of his review like she so often did. Young was no mind reader; Benny's words were precious, sparkling, vibrant love affairs with his mind one simple syllable at a time.

"ANYHOW-" her eyes turned a playful glance to Young. He knew he was in safe resounding territory if only she would keep her eyes beaming brightly on him.

"As I was saying, I just melted Young. I mean I had no control over what I said to him, how I reacted to what he said to me- oh, just everything fell apart." Tragic Benny was nearly one hundred times more adorable than Standard Issue Benny.

"Well what happened after you turned into a gellataneous mass?"

"Nothing. He said 'Goodbye,' and 'It was nice seeing you,' and I just shook my head in accord and walked back to my car."

"What? No dramatic kiss, no sweet reverie of oneness with your former love?"

"I hardly even know what he said Young let alone what I felt. And no- it wasn't like that anyhow..."

Young laughed to him self, "What you remembered your brilliant, handsome, loving boyfriend at home and you realized no matter what you and he had it couldn't even be called love when compared to-"

"Yes, of course, darling all of that... but Young?"

"Yes, Benny, ma cherie, my love, my sweet," At that he grabbed her decidedly until she nearly floated to him off of the bed and kissed her neck until her hair stood on end. She gently pressed her hand in protest against his arm, and gave in with a giggle.

"Well, Young, he was kind of..."

"What Benny? Fat? Married? Unemployed? Crippled for life?"

"Ha- Well, almost all of the above. Fat, Divorced, Unemployed and needy, to say the least."

"You must have gleaned something from the conversation then, to gather all of that."

She supposed she did. Or maybe Benny just knew all to well that downtrodden face of former loves.

Of Love and the Old and New

Many strange, awkward, unnerving and delightful things can happen in a year left open and unrestricted. Let's take a look.

In January, I was cold and unfeeling. Numb by to much work and absolutely no sleep or reflection, I had not allowed myself to heal or dream or cry or think about what had happened to me- to my marriage, to my essence. I alienated everyone around me because I was exhausted, angry, hurt and worst of all, hopeless. Hopeless for a future without the previous pains. Hopeless for a future that would be bright enough to cast away the shadows of my sins and failures.

February was a turning point not only of the year but of my life. For once, I followed impulses in me that lead to something good. Something productive. Something Me. I started school for the spring semester and connected. New people. New thoughts. New hopes. I remembered my plans and dreams pre-ruination and picked up where I left off with more fervor and dedication than I thought possible.

March came in much the same. Work, school, life, coffee breaks, term papers, presentations, new friends- it all blended into one beautiful mosaic. Until he came along. Until I noticed the most beautiful brown eyes I have ever seen. Untill I marveled at someone so like me that his oneness reached out and playfully tapped me on the nose.

The Boy and I met on an off chance at a local bar when I randomly accepted an invitation for drinks and rousing conversation with new friends. So randomly, I surprised myself. And then there he was. All of his tallness, quiet observation and poliet conversation in one essence. I made a fool out of myself as usual over him and thought nothing of it until there we were, answering text messages. There he was, calling me back. Here we were, chatting it up, making friends, going on dates, drinking, laughing, singing, loving.

In April we drank our weight in Bourbon and traveled down the coast to the ocean side. In May we spent warming nights talking about nothing and learning everything. In June we saw DC and laughed at it. In July we enjoyed family functions and moments of calm love. August was the month of a million text messages, September through November were just the same measures of quiet, sure, strong love I had grown accustomed to. December was christmas and cheer and holly and carols and sparkling love. And January is a new love. A true love. A blue love. A love where we don't say "If," we say "When."

The love of a Boy isn't everything. It just made everything seem more important this year. More possible. More tangible. Getting an A on my report card was exciting because The Boy would be proud of me. Seeing Hawaii alone was sad but hopeful because he will see it and love it as I do one day. He made the sad moments bearable and the bright moments brighter. Like a good wine, the love of a Boy who has a love for this girl was an accent to a fine meal of a year. A fulfilling, warming, nourishing year that I just haven't had enough of yet.

Hearing The Music in the Tinkling of the Keyboard.

When I think about you, I think about you in the sound of music. Sometimes I think you are a big band tapping out a rythm while ladies float by in dresses that go on for miles. Sometimes you are a rock band and we are in the crowd bobbing our heads and cheering for the radio hits. Sometimes you are a child, learning how to play the piano, hitting false notes but beaming at the triumph over the weight of the keys.

Sometimes I compare you to other poeple I've known or loved. Sometimes I smile at your beauty, your strength, your height. Sometimes I admire your social, literal and mechanical intelligence. Sometimes I love how you seem to just know my mind.

In comparision:

You love my thoughts. You hunger for and hang onto my words.
You have a respect for my wisedom, however small.
You know what is important to me.
Honor, trust, honesty, and love hang in your every atom.
You see my small attempts and grant them room to blossom into fruitful endeavors.
You are sincere in your recognition of my beneficial traits.
You help me change my undesirable faults and follies.
You introduce new thoughts that are tailored for my ability and understanding.
You encourage my being- my song, my writing, my life, my love.

Sometimes I look at you and see something of time and life and tomorrow.
Sometimes I look at you and I just see plain sunshine.

The Love of a Home.

This morning I woke up with a familiar aching in my heart.

I took a shower, I brushed my teeth, I fumbled through my morning routine, but i couldn't shake it. I couldn't overcome it. I couldn't reconcile myself with it.

Sometimes I wrestle with my need like a warrior with a voracious lion. Sometimes I lay my will at it's feet, I curl up under it and admit defeat by one so much more commanding than I.

Sometimes, I soar on the wings of an eagle- or an Oriole to be more precise- because of my love for one so alive, it's heart pounding a beat in my soul.

Once, the Boy and I had a discussion about the Red Hot Chili Peppers- "Really," He said incredulously, "How many songs can you write about one city?"

About this city, My Friends, I could write a lifetime and never cease the flutter of my heart when I look out on it. Rain, Snow, Wind, or Sunshine, Baltimore glistens for me like newly dewed grass. She calls me out with familiar sounds, smells, tastes, loves. She wraps me warm and safe and promises, quietly, "Tomorrow, My Child, Tomorrow." And Tomorrow breaks upon my and deposits it's wave in my sand, washing away the old and giving to me the new, innervating the life that I have.

Tomorrow ebbs and flows and doesn't think or feel, but My City thinks and feels and breaths an grows with me. My Balitmore crashes against me, changing me, smoothing out my rough edges.

When I was in Fells point this weekend, I was dreaming a dream aloud I always nurse, a dream to own a piece of my city and to work it for It's benefit. To use this city as it uses me- carefully, and to benefit every tomorrow. My acute longing stung me bitterly. The timing isn't right for my desires and my hopes falling, my City whispered comfortingly, "Tomorrow, Child, Tomorrow..."

It may not be the right time, but I will wait, patiently- as patiently as a bridegroom waits for his Bride- for Baltimore to tell me when tomorrow is come.Then I can be glad a rejoice in it, a revel in our Gains and Graces.

Lips of an Impressionist

"Young, have you ever been in love before?" Benny turned up her face to glare at the flickering light, as if willing it in her glance to turn out completely, or shine on brightly to illuminate her words that sat on the thick midnight air of the diner. Seeing no effect on the light, she turned her eyes to Young, impatiently waiting his thoughful response. Why did he always keep her waiting for him?

"I have... but I don't know how much it matters." Young thought back to the beauty, the pain, the love of long ago dreams and in an instant they were gone and his vision cleared. He watched Benny raise her coffee cup to her lips and noticed somethign that in all their friendship he had never seen before.

Benny's lips appeared to him, carressing the coffee cup with a pillowy soft fullness. Out of some far off corner in his mind, Young remembered a dream he had had- something about loving her. Something about taking her up in his arms and holding her close for a midnight kiss. As instantly as his mind removed the slide show of past loves, hurts and follies, Young was suddenly finding the smallest things about Benny to cherish.

The flush of her pink cheek stuck out in his mind. Had she been a painting in motion, a perfect pastel Renoir, floating before him all this time? Had her eyes always glittered back from her smooth complexion, sending a sparkling glimmer over the upper half of her face? Had her lips always seemed so perfectly tinted, turned just so as they were in a thoughtful smile?

"Yes Benny, I was very in love with a girl once who broke my heart." Could it be that in her soft natural beauty, Benny had tamed Young John? Was she holding reins that belonged to her all this time?

"You know, Young, I think that is the very first time you have ever told me what was on your heart."

I would tell you every thought I ever owned if you would just let me hold your plump sweet lips in a perfect kiss long enough for my soul to escape my body and capture the embrace on the canvas of my mind, in a carefree impressionistic way.

Woebegotten memories, paving the road behind me

"You can't dwell on it Louise."

"I know, Boy. But I can't get rid of it either."

Sometimes I feel like I should affix a Vaccumm cleaner to my tail, and wiggle as I walk to be sure to leave no trace of where I've been. If I can't see it, maybe it doesn't exist. If I never had anything to look back on, maybe these nightmares would subside and I could have a clearer view of what I wanted to see ahead of me.

WARNING: The rest of this post is me. Just me. No Young John. No Benny. No lies. No vague, veiled or poetic musings. Just me.

I remember the night you threw your fist through the wall, and the day you blamed me for it. I was so frightened. Frightened of you, frightened of the mistakes I had made, frightened of what tomorrow meant. If I woke up tomorrow, it would only be worse. It would only make you more real and me more hateful of myself. What had I become?

Just a year before, I was a young, stupid, innocent girl. Struggling with my self-image, I was muddling through ok. Just ok. I worked hard and regretted not partying harder. I loved hard and regretted actualizing my dreams so early. Why hadn't I stayed Innocent? Why hadn't I pretended to understand adult relationships in that simple way we do before our youth is compromised?

Now, here I was, sitting in the bathroom, watching your face turn red and hearing the sounds of fury flying from your strong hands. It was easy to displace myself and forget the things you had said before and the wrongs you had already done, but now... Now you were busting up your own bathroom and swinging a piece of trim over my head like a banshee. Now you were smashing my watch, sending my rings flying into the sink.

Now, shit was real.

Not long after, I had packed my bags and set them at the door. You had left at eleven, quite literally howling at the moon. No answers. No reason. No one would explain to me what was wrong with my new husband. Why he preferred to disregard me. I had gone for a four a.m. run in the foggy river town in pitch blackness. I was so foolish to think I could find you in the dark. I was so foolish to think I wanted to find you. When I saw your car in the drive at the local bar, I was so foolish not to march right in and tell you to go to hell. To pack YOUR bags.

When you did come home that morning, you were furious at me. I don't even remember why. I do remembering imagining what it would feel like to jump in the river and float on down stream. Would it hurt to just stop breathing? Would it hurt to just keep running? In the dark? In my flip-flops? Without you? Why wouldn't you see why you hurt me?

All I had wanted was an explanation. A rational response for one god damned minute. Instead you went out with god knows who and did god knows what and then yelled at me for asking questions of you. For fearing you. For fearing myself, slipping fast down a slope headed in on direction: the death. The death of me, of my heart.


I will never know more truly than I did then what it is to lose your senses.Too consumed with the ever slowing and tired sounding thump of my heart, I forgot to pray. I forgot to listen. I forgot to see.

To pray for God's will and deliverance, even though I had sinned in marrying you in the first place.

To listen to His answers, answers that came pouring in from the Holy spirit, my friends and my family calling me to home and to safety.

To see the path before me straying from what I had wanted all along.

The goal quietly pushed aside, I lost all frame of reference. I married you because you said you loved Christ. Because you said you would protect me. Because you said you would love me. The moment I heard you say I do, I looked into your crystal blue eyes and realized I had married a dangerous, unfeeling serpent of Satan. I realized your grip on me would tighten and squeeze and pull at every nook and cranny, every crack and crevice of my heart until it burst, until I disappeared, until you won.

Why can't I get you out of my head?

Because you owned it in that brief fiery storm of my youth.

But I am a Phoenix.
Strong.
Proud.
Rebuilt.