Island Girl

I can't wait to see her: My island-girl friend. When we meet on our less tropical shores for the holidays and the holly-daze. I can't wait to pick up where we left off and to meet her "Him". I look forward to all the things we do when we both make that trek back to our home province from our respective (current) homes: She from her tropical island, me from the cold, windswept prairie. There are plans to make, drinks to be drunk, seafood to eat, secrets to share, shoreline to walk. She will complain how cold it is and I will marvel at the Maritime warmth.

I miss her and do not tell her enough.

So here it is - I miss you Island girl. See you in a couple of weeks!

Ocean Blue

Maybe he's right. Maybe I do actually need it. Maybe my world just makes more sense when I can hear the waves crashing against the rocks in the rhythm of a never ending heartbeat. Maybe my body just feels better when my face is caressed by the always cold salty spray. Maybe my mind is clearer when thoughts can be washed clean by a deep breath of salt air.

That would explain why, on days like this, all I can think of, dream of, wish for, is a walk down that crescent of sand, perhaps stopping for a time to sit on a rock and gaze out on the vastness in blue that is my ocean. Maybe I could curl up in that protected shelter of stone (you know the one) where, if the sun is warm, a perfect nap can be had.

I wonder if he may be right - if my landlocked existence might really drive me mad. Because on days like today, I crave it with such palpable strength that I am driven to distraction and I can no longer deny it. On days like today I think I would trade it all - even the music - for that breath of salt air and the kiss of the spray as I listen to the waves crash.... crash....crash...

Why is it that now, when I have so much I want to say, I have no time? And later on, when I have nothing to do and all the time in the world to wax poetic about anything and everything for hours on end... the time will have passed and I will once more be muted following the passage of too much time with these thoughts in my head instead of on paper (or onscreen, whichever it may be)??

In the bizarre world that is my life... an Ex has unexpected reappeared. It seems I have conjured him, since I did actually mention his name to someone yesterday.

But what is the etiquette when someone you've not spoken to in some odd ten months or so, almost a year in fact, suddenly reappears? (I might add that this was not a bad break up, simply one that resulted from our refusal to live in the same time zone... or more precisely my refusal to stay in my previous one) But in the strangeness of the "do we or don't we" of the staying in touch debate...we simply stopped.

And now here he is again. Simply: "hello, how are ya, I've been in Europe..."

He's been in Europe.

Of course he has.

180 degrees

To have gone from THAT to THIS is a miracle for which I am eternally and always grateful (if a little confused). Even if for some unknown and unexpected reason we end up back at THAT, I will still cherish the sustaining memory of THIS. Thank you, beloved.

Addictions

Is there a 12 step program for magazine addiction??

I wish....

... that my first reaction when the stranger gave me the Tim Horton's gift certificate on the street for no reason had NOT been to wonder "why?"

Even though it was followed very quickly (almost instantly) by gratitude and happy thoughts of the brown elixir of happiness, I still wish I had not first questioned it.

Overwhelmed by the poetry of his prose, I try to catch my breathe. Unexpected surprises lurking within the depths, and the depth, of his words. I need to be surrounded by peace to take this in. Too many voices here.

My skin feels hot like when tears spring to my eyes unbidden following sudden and unexpected pain. Or like the flush of arousal. But this is neither of those, and yet it is both.

Not really ready to speak of this, my words seem too small, not right, inadequate. I wish only to crawl beneath flannel sheets with his words in my head. Attempts to decipher every message hidden there will undoubtedly preclude any sleep. Instead I will allow his words to flow through me again and again. Until I am immersed in them, lost in them like the warmth of southern ocean currents. Perhaps this immersion will masquerade as complete understanding. Or maybe the currents will sweep me out to sea.

Either way - I am lost.