Sometimes having him in my life is like having my own personal fortune cookie. Somedays what he says is as obscure and yet as universal as those little messages inside that sweet crunchy cookie.

Cafe latte days

I am undone by the lure of coffee shops. The ultimate place for procrastination and observation, to be purposefully purposeless. The allure mutates by season, a warm refuge from the chill of winter or a shaded patio table in summer. A strange oxymoron state of social reclusiveness descends in the aroma of cafe au lait, chai tea and coffee coffee coffee. Simultaneously part of the bustle and not, breathing it all in, I have unknowingly become a stereotype as I sit, dressed in black, scribbling furiously.

The erotic fridge poetry gets its first work out...

Disclaimer: this isn't the poem, the poem is on my fridge, however the inspiration was the same...

I have become inexplicably fascinated with his magnetism. I am driven to distraction by the thought of tracing the line of that tattoo - the one there on his inner arm - with my fingertip as he tells me the story behind the ink. I wonder if there are more, as yet unseen, stories in ink to be traced and told.

I don't really know him - not beyond the pleasantries of our weekly haunt. I know his sharp sense of humour, his edge, his musical tastes and, typical of his trade, the feeling (illusion) of intimacy descends quickly with repeated visits. He has come to expect my casual touch when we pass each other closely. Bits and pieces of information coalesce into a still incomplete picture. Certain puzzle pieces are not likely revealed to these people, in this place. And so he remains part imagined, part illusion.

Until next week at least.

As often as I write (and think and talk) about missing people far away. I have recently been thinking about the fact that I, quite likely, in another age would simply have lost these people, if I'd even met them in the first place...

I owe so much of where I am now, who I know now, to communication through computers. So I want to give thanks to one of my favorite things about technology. Thanks be for the ability to "talk" through cyberspace. Thanks be for the ease with which I can (and just did) say "The send button is never hard to find".

Believe me, I am fully aware of where I'd be without it.

PS - I do know that I could write letters, make phone calls, and go visit far away friends, even without this whole technology thing. And I am even among those who are sad at the decline of true letter writing in this age of email. But I also know that, while my intentions would be good, letters would more than likely dwindle, becoming fewer and farther between, and eventually people would hear from me only at Christmas (if then).

But I know that if I had had email back when I went to summer camp, I just may have stayed in touch with that cute boy in Cabin #12....

this one's for you...

This is not enough. These words on a screen that pass for dialogue between us. In spite of the fact that these conversations make my day, week, month and I eagerly await your next cyber-visit and in spite of the enjoyment I get from our not-often-enough conversations across the phone lines, they simply do not measure up to the other...

Seeing that mischevious smile on your lips and the sparkle in your eye as you tease about something or other. Hearing your voice call me the things only you call me, breaking into random movie dialogue with that other one (sometimes now it seems I have half of something here - your other half must miss you at least as much as I do ) ALL of your voices entwined in that language of the far away Island - indecipherable to the uninitiated once you gain speed! Feeling your arms around me in the simple gesture of a hug - so necessary in my world and so easily accepted by you as part of me. (thank-you). Even the silliest reminder - the trivia question that I know you'd know the answer for, lemonade, the fact that the others have made the journey back...

These things all make the hole you left even bigger. And although I know you have grand adventures ahead and others who love you at least as much as you are loved here, I sometimes find myself pouting and resentful of your absence. It's not my best face and I try not to allow myself to wallow in it.

But you are missed, beloved. And not just by me alone. Carry that with you on your travels. Keep us in mind (and in your heart) as we keep you in ours. Excercise those typing fingers at every opportunity, the send button is never hard to find.

And we'll see you soon.
hugs.