I’ve been trying to write a Slice of Life for today’s share with my wonderful circle of #sol16 writers and I’m coming up dry so I’m reposting this letter that I loved writing and sharing and that poem at the end was just a perfect gem of a find, don’t you think?
Yesterday I took my apartment out for a spin and shared it with bands of babes:
I had a lunch spread for my SUNY babes: Lynn, Agita, and Jane. We talked politics and ate from a Fairway spread. Glorious. With a few hours to nap, reset and then host my book club babes.
We ended the evening on the couch, watching the latest version of Pride and Prejudice. Sorry, doesn’t hold a candle to my favorite- Geer Garson and Laurence Olivier version. But it worked for us.
A frenetic day to be sure, but it’s hard to schedule dates for 3 or more…
But now it’s Friday afternoon and after a morning of movement at the gym and in the park I’m enjoying time on my porch after finishing Season 4of Sex and the City, as another month without you comes to an end. Tuesday marks 10 months and I’ll be sitting across from Sandie talking about what my life looks and feels like and what I can do to move further into a life that feels good.
In this last episode of Sex and the City, Carrie, single once again, as the first night of fall forces her to grab a cover for her bed, calls Big. She invites herself over to his place and arrives to find his aparment almost empty as he casually announces in his charming way, that he’s tried of the City and heading to Napa, CA. to run a vineyard. He still has his stereo and albums with him and he plays his parents’ favorite song for her… Moon River. That was one of my favorite tunes too. So romantic. You didn’t grow up on Moon River, but I’m sure I’m sure, somewhere in our 20 years we danced to it. I held you close, tried to lead and sang every word of it in your ear and you…loved it.
We had romance…
Out here on my porch there’s romance… there’s romance everywhere thanks to you…
Here’s a poem I found in my email box that reminds me that we are we…. forever.
The End of the Pier
I walked to the end of the pier
and threw your name into the sea,
and when you flew back to me—
a silver fish—I devoured you,
cleaned you to the bone. I was through.
But then you came back again:
as sun on water. I reached for you,
skimmed my hands over the light of you.
And when the sky darkened,
again, I thought it was over, but then,
you became water. I closed my eyes
and lay on top of you, swallowed you,
let you swallow me too. And when
you carried my body back to shore—
as I trusted that you would do—
well, then, you became shore too,
and I knew, finally, I would never be through.
Love you forever, Tuv Rosenberg,