I am thinking of you so far away.
You must be sleeping now.
Snoring and alone – waiting for me to place myself inside your arms.
Your sounds comfort and reassure me.
I long for you.
What you have given me . . .
– more than the food I eat
or the greeting cards I read
– more than the things we plan
or where we decide to meet
– more than the gifts you give
or the way you make me feel
You have given me something I can cling to . . .
There he is, so handsome in his dark suit and white dress shirt. Even the sun celebrates our reunion as she bounces off the skyscrapers and dances teasingly on the rim of his glasses.
“Julia!” He calls to me.
I love the way he says my name. It sounds so eloquent and romantic, adorned in his educated accented European-ness.
I go to him and climb into his open arms.
My hands slide beneath his suit and pull him close. My face finds that place where his neck and shoulder meet, and nestles there. His shirt is crisp, cool, and fresh. I like its starchy white formality. His muscles tighten beneath my hands. I like that, too.
We stand still in our embrace. I could stay this way forever and live a lifetime with my face buried in the safety of his shirt.
Passion, like hunger, will subside if you ignore it long enough. Things go silent. I thought them departed, but they were only dormant.
Now he is igniting me; like starting a car . . . or a fire.
Through closed eyes the moments come, overwhelming me, reminding me . . . of all the wanting, of all the empty nights, and the eternal missing hours.
“Uhhh . . . I forgot how good this feels” I whisper.
He pulls me closer.
“I’m so glad I forgot”, I whimper, “It would have been excruciating”.
Remembering that this is just a visit and our time limited, a feeling of dread washes over me as a new thought comes. I say nothing and quietly fight the tears . . .
“Now, I will have to forget all over again.”
I just returned from my first visit to New York City. It was wonderful and brief and I fell in love and somehow, I managed to miss out on every single art gallery and museum. Sheesh.
Why, you ask me? What happened?
I will now confirm the airheaded-ness that most of you have always suspected I possess, by telling you the truth. I forgot. I forgot all about the museums I have waited most of my life to see, because she seduced me.
New York City seduced me. And I loved every single crazy, magical moment of it.
How did she do it? With lights and colors and flashing billboards and music and vibrant electric people-energy! Here, let me give you a small glimpse.
I thought my seizures would have kicked in with all these colorful, flashing lights, but they didn’t. I only had one seizure, and that was during a performance of the Lion King. I hardly noticed though; I was having a panic attack because I was stuck in the middle of a row, and with all my sweating and deep breathing, it came and went unnoticed by anyone but me. What a case.
But a show unlike anything I have ever seen! The sets, costumes, music, and performances were off the charts! It transformed me to Africa!
And the biggest surprise? The City of New York herself is the most unique and stunning display of art I have ever seen!
I forgot all about galleries and museums because everywhere I looked I saw amazing things.
It started with the view from my room.
And the people on the streets. AS art. And making music.
NYC is the fashion capital of the world because even her buildings are the best dressed anywhere!
Even Mother Nature gets in on the act.
Sometimes her buildings are clad only in red, white, and blue.
I never imagined buildings as being beautiful. Until now. These unadorned and magnificent buildings decorate the skies.
Reflections of buildings.
Reflections of a child. (Do you see me?)
I even made a few creative new friends!
(Yikes! It looks as if I’m being groped! Lol).
But NYC is not limited to artful people and buildings. No, there are also plenty of wonderful sculptures!
And the message is everywhere.
We must not forget to . . .
Checkout time is 12:00 noon.
Gosh, I love this city. Until next time, New York . . .
Our journey shared flew quickly by
yet is frozen still in time
Our journey shared was here and gone
but is forever yours and mine.
This love I know is new to me
and is for things I had not dreamed
This love I know for everything
was waiting to be freed.
A place can change a person
and I became a part
I will carry you inside me
and I will wear you in my heart.
A brilliant star was plucked from the night
but Heaven got brighter
Can that be right?
I think of you and I understand why
You’re making God smile
and it lights up the sky!
This week’s blog is dedicated with deep gratitude to my dear friend, Pat Petroline; aka Doc, Momma Patti, Miss Lu, LuLu Yang-Master Chef.
Making a critical mistake is like getting bit in the butt by a dog . . . you don’t see it coming, you feel the shock of realization, the horrible pain upon infliction, and unless you’re simply unlucky enough to be a random target, you should probably limp away having learned a lesson.
We seldom get a do-over.
Saturday I took a three hour journey across the State of Michigan on a less-than-desirable emotional task of sorts. Without prompting, my friend, Patti, offered to accompany me. I cried during most of the drive.
We arrived, tended to my dreaded personal business, and began the three-hour drive home. I cried during most of the drive back too.
After a restless night, I awoke on Sunday morning in a terrible panic. I telephoned Patti and hysterically screamed that I had to return. I had made an awful mistake and had lost something very precious.
Fifteen minutes later we were on yet another three-hour trek.
We arrived on the western coast of Michigan, managed to un-do my previous day’s doings, and retrieved what I thought was priceless and forever lost.
Yet again, we took one final trip back to Southeastern Michigan. This time we laughed the whole way home.
Two days, twelve hours of driving, and 800 miles later, I walked away having learned two really amazing things:
ONE: Recognizing a mistake is the first step to learning from it. And sometimes, if you are quick enough and lucky enough, you get a do-over. But you have to try or you will never know.
TWO: My friend Patti is a one of a kind blessing.
When I called on her for help for the second time, she did NOT say that she was busy with weekend holiday plans, or that she was tired from her busy week at work. She did NOT say that she was needed at home with her family, or that she just couldn’t handle another six-hour trip. She did NOT complain once during the entire two-day fiasco, and she NEVER called me crazy or irrational or stupid for making the mistake that started it all.
No, when I called her, sobbing and screaming, “I have to go back now! Can you come? Can you come, please? How soon can you get here?”
Her calm and simple reply was, “I’m on my way. All I have to do is put on my shoes.”
And that was that. No questions and no judgment.
I love her so much for that. I wish I could adequately show my gratitude by buying her something special . . . like a house! LoL.
Patti, thank you will never seem sufficient. And nothing you ask of me will ever be too big.
A rare and special friend.
And a labor of love . . .
Embrace the day
clouds and blue
no thoughts of you
The sun goes orange
and fades to grey
embrace the calm
remains of day
It’s when the blue
fights with the night
my heart aches with
lack of might
This missing hour . . . eternity
until, my love, you’re next to me.
You lie coiled in embryo sleep
below the blue painting of the fisherman;
the checkered blanket tousled on the floor.
This old house creaks in reply to the quiet wind.
A car passes
and the glow of the streetlamp
dances through the shutters in hysterical patterns.
I lie engulfed by emptiness.
Moving silently, disentangling myself from you,
I grope in the dark for cigarettes.
Across the room I sit observing you.
Otherwise, there is no change;
not in the way you lay curled up . . .
not in the sounds that never come from you . . .
not in the discontent I feel.