diary

Dear Rochelle. It’s almost 1 in the morning. The night for this early June is awfully cool for this time of year. So unexpected. Such a delight. I can hear the leaves blowing in the wind. Hear the branches dancing. The moon is shrouded by clouds, but it is there. The roads stand silent and dark. Black against the night. The little sparrowhawks are gliding under the street lights catching the bugs. The dog sits next to me, looking at me. Waiting for you. Looking at me waiting for you.

In 12 days I turn 30. It was no easy feat and I am still surprised daily anew at this twist of events. This turn around. This newly found love for life and the daily quest to make it some permanent, not some transitory thing. The age 30. It’s funny as a child I didn’t know what turning 30 meant and in a way; I still don’t. I’m getting older. I’ve run some hard miles. I’ve waited so long. I spent so many nights sad, locked away from the world. Now we are a part of it. Tonight, the world is still, love. And my arms are empty.

There are times in my dreams where you are just slightly out of reach. Or there is someone trying harm you and I try my best to put a stop to it. There are times in the waking world as well. It seems all my life I was waiting for you brown hair and all, to come and spend the days laughing. Peaceful. Sleeping. Loving. And here you are.

In 12 days I am 30. In the months and years after---what then? What will we see? Who will we be? Is there any waking from this dream?

Sometimes it’s something as simple as a hairbrush on the sink that isn’t mine. Or that stray long dark hair in the sinkbowl. Other times it’s our toothbrushes kissing in the cup. Side by side. Or a pair of shoes left behind. The crumpled unmade bed where you and I have spent so many laughing times. Sometimes it’s waking around dawn and seeing your face sleeping next to mine and just when I start to despair and feel like you’re 1000 miles away; you awake and you take my hand, place it on your belly….

Right now, the only things I need are:
Your Kiss.
A good pair of shoes.
maybe some bread and wine to carry along with us down this road.

The little desert bats are flying around in this low lying twilight. Children laughing across the street. Children laughing within me. You are my blood brother. My Tom Sawyer. My Huck Finn. My headlight miracle, my flashlight dream.

My heart.