penelope

can you see the moon from where you are?

she's making an appearance, just now, outside my window. bright and lovely and completely full of herself. and why shouldn't she be? the sun's been chasing her round and around all day ... just trying to light up her face.

the night is slowly rolling in. everything covered in a thick blanket of fog. fog, which i'm told is actually 'the marine layer' ... the sea reaching all the way to the hills. it is the highest of tides, i suppose, and always a lovely excuse to burrow in for the evening.

you wouldn't know it now, but today was the most beautiful of days. i have a pink nose and twenty-three new freckles to prove it.

i spent the morning on the beach, enjoying the smell of june, walking through the waves and watching kids play in the sand - every one of us all sunsoaked and shimmery. i followed the shoreline up to the museum and lost myself in the exhibits there (as i'm wont to do), though, if i'm honest, it was a different sort of display that captivated me today.

he was tall. and she was not. they started together in front of a painting, not speaking, just enjoying the art and the nearness of one other. and then she leaned into him, ever so slightly, looked up into his face, and slipped under his arm and away to another piece. in another room, he came up behind her and touched the small of her back and she melted into his hand. he folded her into him and kissed her softly on the top of her head.

that's how it was. they'd separate to follow their own interests and then they'd pass one another and touch ... kiss a hand, run fingers down an arm ...

i saw them one last time, before they were leaving, i suppose. they ended up on opposite sides of the gallery and she looked past me, over to him and he smiled in such a way it made me blush. they started to walk toward one another and when they met, inches from where i sat, they spoke in a hush and though i couldn't hear, i imagine he breathed, 'i missed you.' and she whispered, 'i'm here now.'

i was trespassing in a moment that wasn't mine.

i tried to pull my loneliness around me, invoking its cloak of invisibility, but it was of no use. they redefined the force of gravity and i was overcome ...

... by their heat and their easy intimacy (reminding me what it is to be so close to someone that there's nothing between us but our breath and our skin) ... by their confidence ... by the idea that love like that can exist in a world like this ... by the absence of these things in my own world ...

when i finally stepped outside again, an hour had passed, and with it the longing and the melancholy (is there nothing sunshine can't undo?), and i began the long walk home, moving forward with a sense of responsibility for the life i've created, the life i've always wanted.

no part of this is easy, nurturing this life i want to live into being. and the resulting chorus in my head is loud and painful and sometimes sends me back into my shell. i have to force myself back out into the open, back toward the light. it is never easy for me - no matter how silly and positive and carefree i am. it's a choice i make everyday.

and so, i become penelope - weaving and unweaving, getting restless and longing to display myself to my suitors, fan their hearts, inflame them more and wondering when it will feel right.

and i wonder ... when the ending is done, where do you begin?