Evening II

They lay on his coat on the moss and she felt the sticks and roots which she had not felt before as he was crashing over her. The grass by her cheek and the same as her cheek and the same as the air and all of it was part of the universe and his hand by her chin air and all of it was part of the universe and his hand by her chin and his face curved on her neck was part of it too.
Maybe I will after all.
What?
Have your baby.
He pulled her closer. I'd love that, he said. They could say anything now.
Might not be so simple, she said.
No.
With you married to someone else.
It would be ours, he said. That's how bad I am, I would like it.
But you would stay with her.
He didn't answer. She still had the conviction of his hands on her and did not yet feel the misery which she knew was coming. Misery was just outside the circle around them, waiting in the darkness. They held each other and his weight was more real than his going away.

There were things she'd not asked him and things she'd not said and she did not wonder what she knew or what she had learned but merely felt what had happened and felt what it meant. She did not need to explain it, she simply had it. He was asleep in her arms and the stars which had been spilling and spilling had stopped and were motionless and she knew that what they'd had was not enough but believe it would have it be.

Then the white ceiling opened like an eye and she saw what the ceiling might have seen, how she'd never put words to it.

All her life she'd listened to talk, life was full of talk. People said things, true and interesting and ridiculous things. Her father used to say they talked to much. There was much to say, she had said her share. How else was one to know a thing except by naming it? But words now fell so far from where life was. Words fell on a distant shore. It turned out there were other tracks on which life registered where things weren't acknowledged with words or given attention to or commented on. It might have been said, These two had a story. One might have said she'd found in him a great thing, that she'd found more than herself which was everything and found more than life. And even saying that she would not bring back what was gone. She did not know if it had been the same for him. She would never know. She only knew for herself. Nowhere did it show. Without being shared, what they knew had faded into a kind of mirage. It became One of Those Things. She could not let what passed between them matter too much afterwards so that when the memory tried to assert itself it had been pushed down by reason and habit and time, eventually becoming no more than a scruffy hidden sear on a scruffy hillside. She had worked to rub it out. That this had been forgotten once and would be forgotten again suddenly seemed worse to her than her own life ending.

Evening

It was dark around her ankles, he was braiding her hair into the wet grass. She felt hollow with a jaw of bronze. She could not sleep, the air inside her was twisting around.

They stood for a long time in the rock garden meeting each other's bodies for the first time too shy to stop standing and find the bench Ann Grant had mentioned.

They stood and each time he touched a new place she sort of fell off an edge and each time he said something she dropped deeper into herself and further into the night around them. She would have fallen over if he'd not held her up. Her hand was on his shoulder and she thought, this is his shoulder with my hand on it. He had a sort of mirthful look on his face when he'd pulled her sleeves back and looked at her shoulders with the pale line of the shirt in a scoop, but when he looked down now he was not smiling. His mouth came close and kissed her mouth.

How could that have ever stopped? How could his arms have gone? He nuzzled her neck, he was insistent at her shirt sending thrills through her and she laughed. Do you always behave this way with stranger? she said.

You are not a stranger, he said. Isn't there some place we can go?

--

A great wind blasted up clearing the smoke and she saw her feet beneath her standing at the edge of a cliff. So that was it, that was the other part. It came to her in this little shed. So this is what the night is for, she thought, this is what arms are for. This is why that window is there, why people sleep at night, why they lie beside each other, what life is. This was the point. She split out of the world with him and everything around them became something sealing off the two of them with no time in it and no endings and no loss or worry. She was full. She set herself back against him very slowly and was silent for a while then turned and touched his face like an explorer with an archeological find and kissed him and lay back again. The great thing was happening to her. She looked up and saw the white painted rafters showing up in the darkness and smelled the wet rope in the corners and saw the pointed flags hanging against the windows in the pitched roof. Her mind spread evenly over everything. Falling falling nothing had ever sounded like that falling in love.

Every defense she'd ever consciously or unconsciously taken refuge behind suddenly dropped like the buildings you saw demolished in clouds of dust and in its place a new scaffolding was thrown up, a structure upon which she could build a life. His arm was integral to this structure and with its support she felt wide and strong. There seemed to be no difference between herself outside and in. Up until then her personality had been a thing fluctuating in and out of sight like grass underwater and now it was all equally in focus. She was solid, whole. She saw through the window a spiky branch black as antlers in the moonlight.
Look, she said.
He looked. Do you love trees too?
He pulled her near, staying quiet as he did it. He did not know what he did or how everything was changed.

exist

Sometimes it just hits me, in a school cafeteria, or in class, at my desk. I suddenly feel unattached from my surroundings, look around, notice that everyone else was paying attention to the teacher, or doodling, or passing notes and whispering--and I would have my existential moment in utter loneliness and silence. I usually want to jump up and shout, "Hey, I exist!" but the fear of punishment kept me quiet. In the lunchroom, I'll say, "I'm having the funny feeling that I'm alive today." After high school, when I met a potential boyfriend, and we would be lying somewhere peaceful and sweet, I would ask him if he had ever felt himself existing. Like all time stops and everything in you become still though the rest of the universe keep moving, and there you are, just existing along, and you can do anything you want with this realization. A Buddhist might say to prolong the moment as long as possible, because it is a moment of perfect acuity and pure, a truth that cuts through the world.

The day has come.

As I once wrote on this very blog, while planning my leave of lovely Oxford,...everything must come and go, and now it's my turn to leave. I don't wanna get all melodramatic about this, because it's long, long overdue, but I'm happy and scared and excited and petrified. However, none of that matters now. So, here we go.

I can say that I've lived a very simple and easy life this year. It's been a year of solitude, punctuated with surprising bursts of great friendship and devout love. I've learned a lot about myself, internalized lessons and learned live a little more quietly. I've found beauty and comfort and so much worth in myself. When I left Oxford over a year ago, I was only just beginning to know myself, as a lone individual, as an adult, and as a woman. I was a bundle of flickering and unpredictable anxieties, and they'd spark up a wildfire at any time.

I'm glad that I can confidently say that I don't give a fuck anymore. I can only be myself. And not everyone has to love me, but I do feel, from the bottom of my heart, that as long as you're authentic and kind, no one can truly dislike you. I love who I am. Since I've found love in myself,  I can truly know love and feel love for others.

Love is in those secret, in-between moments, when you look over at that other person, during a movie, and you see that they're just smiling. You don't know why they smile. But because they are smiling and they are with you and look so happy, you have to smile too.

Just give me the beat.

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii


Today has been great! I went wedding dress shopping!...and noooo, not for me. For one of my childhood best friends, you know the one...my friend Amy?! You may have met/heard me reference this awesome girl. I had the pleasure and joy of living out my "Say Yes to the Dress" (sexual?) fantasy. I wasn't the star of the show, but I truly enjoyed being a captivated audience to her bridal transformation. Amy and I don't get to spend that much time together; we are actually kind of awful at even keeping in touch, but aren't those the best friendships? The low-maintenance, mellow ones?...The "oh-hey, I'm coming to town next week. You gonna be around?" ones.

And last night, I facebook-video-chatted with my other best friend, Elizabeth, for a couple hours. I met her Argentine boyfriend. He said I was "very pretty," so I immediately approved. Flattery gets you everywhere with me. I played with my dog while she ate Pringles. We gossiped and laughed and our faces got frozen in really funny ways on our computer screens. It was great. I have really great friends.

I want to relate this post to my being lonely and sad, but you know what?...I'm not. I'm neither sad nor am I alone.

byeeeeeeeeeee

It's getting better.

I had a dream last night that Graham found another girlfriend. And not just a girlfriend, he was mad with love for this chick. In my dream, I met her. She was petite with blonde hair and had a very strong handshake. In short, she was a bitch. This dream-girl locked Graham in an elevator and was conditioning him to stay content by ventilating the elevator's air with sweet-smelling perfumes. My dream-friends and I were planning his prison-break when I woke up, feeling relieved and rejuvenated. It was 10 am. This was the most I'd slept in two weeks.

Face the change.

The theme for this point in my life has to be "Change." Don't ask questions, don't blame yourself. Prepare as best you can, and just turn and face the strain. Yes, I'm also listening to David Bowie's "Changes." It's my theme song.


Change is actually very odd and perplexes the hell out of me. We all seek it in some way, however, simultaneously we totally fear it. It's also inevitable. If you aren't experiencing some sort of life-change, then you are dead. Or boring. Sorry.

I'm moving soon. That's scary. I was reading one of Sital's old posts, where she had panic attacks coming to and from Starbucks before she had moved. I can absolutely relate to this. I'm leaving all that I know. Mississippi, home, my family, and my relationship with Graham. But things have to keep moving. My life cannot be paused to wait for Graham to complete nursing school and join me in Nashville. I have to move, move, move.

I was cleaning out my room today, and it made me miss him, unbearably. A lot of my furniture and decorations came from a time when I loved antiquing around Oxford's little shops. I have vases, artwork, records, and other odd knick-knacks from that especially wonderful time of my life.

I made an Ex-Box, attributed to Graham. It's very full, and it only covers the items that fit. Tons of ticket stubs, dried flowers, sweet love notes (one even features an owl on the front, saying "Owl always love you"), and his The Wire DVDs, just to name a few. Nitin's sits on top of his. And it's looking scraggly and very empty by comparison. Now, I still have plenty of loving moments in my repertoire of 2006-2008 memories, but the difference of the seriousness, depth, and connection between these two boys is very apparent.

When Nitin and I broke up, I genuinely felt like I would never, ever find anyone better, who liked me as much, who was as funny and humble and unique and talented. And Nitin is all these things, I assume, but somehow I found someone SO MUCH BETTER.

So much better FOR ME. Nitin will find someone who is better for him than me, and that's fine. But Graham was the first guy who I truly loved, who I still love. He practically lived with me for 8 months in Oxford. The only guy to say, "You're amazing."We woke up and went to sleep together, cuddled, watched movies, played pool, got drinks, lunched, cooked, breakfasted, visited, planned, made love, talked, listened, understood. He was the first guy who saw my baaad side. He saw me grooooossss and unwashed. He shaved my arm pits once. He has picked boogers out of my own nose. He was with me through my foot break. And he loved and cared about me anyway. That's a great man.

That's what will be the hardest to find again,...not the romantic, all-consuming love or attraction or even connection, but that person that I can let into my heart, allow them to see the very worst, most awful parts of me. And love me regardless. Wow.