It’s one of those beautiful Friday October afternoon gifts when you pinch yourself, grateful for another day to enjoy the outside: sitting on the porch, listening to soft wind chimes with the forest on the left slowly changing color. It’s a very different day for those in the south- Florida, the South Carolina… the Bahamas, Haiti again: devastation and destruction as I anchor myself out here long enough for a letter and a bit of self-pity that Friday afternoons just don’t excite me the way they used to; that life in general just doesn’t fire me, the way it did when you and sat together on a Friday planning the day together. Into year 2 and life is still in black and white even though there’s color around me. I’m just not in color.
I do want my eros back. I’m just not quite sure how that happens.
But hey, I got through the first round of the High Holy Days, I got through your birthday in one piece. I kept busy even if I just couldn’t find my way to synagogue. I couldn’t be there without you, listening to the the rabbi’s sermon as you shoved me off your shoulder to stay awake. So peaceful to nap in places you shouldn’t. And when you were ready to exit, I was right there with you, ready for our walk out into the fresh air and on our way to Ami’s or back home.
I just finished watching clips from our set of Cancun interviews that I haven’t yet made into a movie. I was back on our porch at the condo, listening to you share your childhood yearning for an education that you had to fight for. You sat across from me in a sleeveless t-shirt . I was learning so much about you. So proud to be with you. It was our first trip to Cancun, but not our last. So many trips to Cancun and so many trips together. So much life together and I sit here missing you, wishing I had more Fridays with you- more time. And I understand why I feel so black and white in the world of color.
You aren’t here with me…
Miss you Tuv R,