a good day

the night is coming down around me. encapsulating me and trying to enforce sleep with its cocoon of darkness and humidity. in its wake, i've been sitting on the steps leading to the shore, watching the ocean - black and green against the coming dawn - and feeling the fog roll in. my hair, my skin, my clothes are damp, my smile is wide and i smell of the sea.

i am restless tonight, but strangely, not tired.

i know better - now - than to fight sleep. it comes when it wants - like the stray cats near the beach - to feed and be allowed to lie awhile.

it's cool tonight. which i love. cool enough that it would feel nice to sleep next to someone. feel him lying next to me, around me, keeping me warm and listening to me breathe. (it is an image perhaps more intimate than sex and one which resonates.)

'cool' never stood a chance at the bottom of the lone star state. summer, like the people there, was greedy ... grabbing at everything, with its heavy, humid hands, fogging up the windows and sending us back indoors. and so i find myself awake, long past my bedtime, happy for the 'chill' and for the change of scenery. there is a color of light in me that only shines here.

it was a good day, to be sure. 'fabulous' new shoes, a visit from home, the early chapters of a good book ... a day filled with the lovely ... the unexpected ... the hoped for.

maybe that's why i can't sleep. i don't want it to end. i'm fascinated by what the outcome will be. and running away to the heart of the night, i'm not afraid anymore. i know the morning will come, the light bleeding through my window, a mixture of blues and greys and a new adventure will unfold, or an old adventure will continue, and there will be finally be time for the north and south to engage in the most civil of wars ...

i've been pragmatic and intellectual - i'm ready for giddyness, ready to fall off the earth again.

and here i go ...

well enough

i don't give up easily.

i keep looking back, holding a place in my heart for ages and ages, believing, with no evidence at all, that a connection still exists. so even if my love letters lie somewhere, torn and dusty and forgotten, i am still here, offering you a remnant of something i think is beautiful.

it's painful, this tenacity, this inability to leave 'well enough' alone.

so, today, i'll try something different. today, i'll give up easily.

my hope is that it will lessen the sting. my fear is that it will lessen the girl.

.....................
songs for the day: you give me something by james morrison and a beautiful mess by jason mraz

belief, choice and the promise of love

darling lizy ...

my life, up to and including now, has never been easy. and, as far as i know, it has never been envied.

i was the grown-up in my house before i had grown into my own skin and as a result, i have spent my whole life ... my whole self ... moving between what was necessary for others – to keep them safe and stable – and what they expected of me. and the times i’ve stepped outside those bounds, whether set by friends or family or lovers, i’ve been rewarded with judgment and what has felt like insurmountable pain.

i am pavolv's daughter.

or at least, i was.

and until not so long ago, i had a man who loved me. a lot. or at least he loved the idea of me, the person i tried to become for him. and i realize, now, i loved the idea of that. and i liked our life. it was simple. uneventful. and i wasn't unhappy. but not 'unhappy' is no way to go through life.

it had become clear that i what i had seen as compromise and the natural order of a marriage was actually a bargain i made with myself. (don’t we all, at some point, make bargains with ourselves?) i had been living my life in the best way i knew to keep him calm and happy. i realized that i'd been finding ways to stand still for him. and along the way, i forgot who i used to be, who i wanted to be. and it wasn't until i was here, standing alone, that i truly understood that standing still doesn't suit me.

too, i learned that as hard as it is to be the one who is left, who is no longer loved, it is harder, by far, to be the one who leaves, who stops loving first ... who realizes that in order to fix herself, she'll have to break someone else.

and it makes me wonder if i'm worthy of all of this ... this great, grand, good fortune finally coming my way. and i have to believe that i am.

i have to believe that it's okay that i finally love my life ... that i might actually hit a homerun my first time at bat ... that i am finally truly happy, almost incandescently so.

and as for the promise of love, well, i have to believe it's okay that i believe in that, too ... that i believe that love can’t be planned, that it won't arrive when it's 'supposed to' or look the way i think it will, and i'll just fall into its arms because my belief undoes my disbelief.

it's a lot, i know. and it's not so very neat, i know that, too. but it's my life. as i chose it.

and so, no matter how envious you might be, how broken hearted, too ... just know that whatever you want for yourself is possible. happiness, is worth working for in a million tiny ways - and it will never look the way you think it will, but it will always be worth the effort. measure it in centuries and in inches and never question whether you're worthy.

you're worthy.

we all are.

as long as we choose to be.

turn around

today was one of those days that both surprises and delights.

i awoke to darkness, both inside and out. angry at the alarm clock and the theft of sleep ... still licking my wounds from an evening of pointed questions ... and cursing the brides for their early morning appointments to buy egg timers and champagne flutes.

but as i opened my door, and into the quiet house, my first step brought me to a warm spot - one where my cat had clearly spent the night, protecting me, listening to me cry and loving me as only she can.

it's funny, isn't it? that in those times when we need comfort the most, we forget that sometimes all we have to do is open the door.

and it was there the day started anew.

work was ... not as much work as it usually is. the people there constantly surprise me and the sales floor is often filled with laughter and music and more than a little dancing. on this day, though, joy came from some of the most unlikely places.

jenni made cupcakes for breakfast because she understands that there isn't much chocolate can't fix for me. paul brought be a cup of coffee the size of my head - just because i looked as if i needed extra. meg invited me to sit with her family at her graduation, because i'm 'like family anyway, only cooler.' robert bought me a corn dog for lunch, just because he thinks it's fun to watch me eat it. and david, he said he noticed there's been a bit more sparkle in my eye than usual of late and that i should tell the man who put it there to thank his lucky stars that he'd won such a prize and robert said he wasn't sure it was a man that did that for me ... it was probably the corn dog. and we all laughed. loudly.

after work, i went for a run on the beach ... pink and orange to the west, an arc of deepening blue hovering above. (in that light, my freckles, my skin, take on a golden glow, as if i've been covered with sparkling confetti.) and all of a sudden, i couldn't believe THIS is MY life. how did i ever get so lucky?

of course, it isn't luck, really. i chose this. i woke up.

i've done the hard work. i've weathered the winter of my discontent. i've worn the weight of the world on my hips. and through it all, what i've carried around, is the idea that, one day, it would all begin again here. at the end.

and in the midst of all these hormones and uncertainty, i am reminded of all that i am grateful for ... off-the-cuff compliments, freedom of the press, artistic license, licking whipped cream right out of the bowl. thinking caps, adjectives, unconventional lullabies, pale pink light tumbling into morning, conversations on paper, the impossible encounters that live in the imagination and somehow become reality, the kissing part.

i'm off, now, to meet some friends for an impromptu party where i trust there will be much dancing and laughing and perhaps a cocktail or two ... and you know what that means (she says with one eyebrow raised ...)

warning

i woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

(though, to be fair, after reading my post from last night, i may have gone to bed on the wrong side and this morning's mood is simply its leftover.)

still. nothing can shake it. not cinnamon toast. not hot coffee. not my favorite blue shoes. not a good hair day. not even tiny kisses from a little grey cat.

i cannot sparkle. i will not try.

actually. that's a lie. i will try. it's just what i do.

what i'm doing with my summer vacation

maybe i should go away for awhile. maybe i should go away somewhere safe; someplace where you can't be lured by my sweet smile or seduced by my vampire ways.

there should be room for me in the carnival side show, i think, sandwiched somewhere between the fat lady and the siamese twins. look for me there ... corralled in an iron birdcage, delicately scrolled bars separating me from the normalcy of the masses ... seated politely in a chair, beneath a tiny, hand painted sign that reads:

nice girl.

speaks well. smells good. smiles often.

freak show material if ever there was any.

the first breath

good sunday morning to you. i'm still using too much sugar in my coffee.

i was awake at three this morning. i know - i should have been asleep, but instead, i wrote for a bit and then wandered down to the beach ... embracing my darkness, entertaining my fears and enjoying the near silence and the feel of the spray on my face.

the birds couldn't sleep, either, it seems. they swooped near, teasing the ground and soaring high again. i have been a bird all weekend, turning over and over my sad stories, tackling topics at dizzying heights, aiming for a soft landing and enjoying the flight.

and this morning, my coffee is hot and sweet, the sun rises through the haze and the darkness has gone, save for a hint here and there - hiding out in the shadowy corners of me - tucked in warmly next to scraps of hope. and of insanity. even knowing it's there,though, i still feel a great pleasure to be alive, awake and present.

i think i'll make breakfast.

and for a little while, i'll sit here, fingers and smile sticky from the syrup ... listening to the sounds of traffic, shivering under my armor and looking for ways to calm this storm raging inside my head.

this mash-up of guilt, regret, stoicism and fear is completely avoidable. i can talk myself into anything, including an elevated state of aloofness. i can choose not to care … but if i've learned anything about choices, it's that this would be a bad one. possibly the worst of all.

and so i fight hard against this willful anaesthesia and move forward into the day with discretion and sensitivity ... and a sense of responsibility for my own happiness. it won't be easy. even for a happy girl like me.

when you've been drowning, the first breath is always the most painful.