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amulhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPYqbki0lCo&feature=player_embedded
I am drifting in and out of love and lovemaking. I am pausing to laugh at silly thoughts shared aloud mid-coitus. Somewhere in here things are being said that usually make me terrified, and someone is saying them and the sense of merger is so intense that I have a hard time remembering who is saying them, who is laughing, who is being dazzled.
I've only been here a week, and I've already started using "when" instead of "if." I've only made one joke about the link between toilet paper and beer, and where is the fear? (Why am I trying so hard to rhyme all these words?)
This love affair is going to be an exercise for my heart. An exercise in the difference between daydreams and futures. The difference between dreaming and building, wanting and choosing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mnOrrknTxbI&feature=player_embedded
And her kids. Gods, her kids and the roller-coaster of thoughts that time with them sends me off on. This weird sort of crazy that spells out every inch of the miles between her home and mine. This insanity which whispers that intensity can never completely replace duration.
I've often joked that children are walking clocks. I've called them a constant reminder of the passage of time. No matter how little you pay attention, kids are still growing up. You might lose track, but the next time you see them, their very presence will remind you: time has passed.
Only, this time, they remind me that time has not passed, reminds me that no matter how intensely I desire, no matter how deeply I believe, how tightly I close my eyes and deny, it has only been two more days.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbnQfFaxkno&feature=related
I have not known and loved her for years. I do not know her every aspect of her soul. I have not earned the trust and esteem of her friends, conspirators and children, no matter how much I want to skip those steps and just be there. Be that. Have been that.
It collides across my frustrations with my friends in Chicago, who decidedly refuse to act like we've known each other for decades (even though I've never asked them to do otherwise). It finds resonance with the other mothers that I've spent time with in the last year, and makes me fear my own intentions in ways I never would have thought to until now. Until I wanted a single mother's children to love me for no better reason than this:
I want to be free to love all of her.
And as much as I'd like to think otherwise, the ticking of the clock keeps telling me Not yet. Not yet. Not yet....
I am drifting in and out of love and lovemaking. I am pausing to laugh at silly thoughts shared aloud mid-coitus. Somewhere in here things are being said that usually make me terrified, and someone is saying them and the sense of merger is so intense that I have a hard time remembering who is saying them, who is laughing, who is being dazzled.
I've only been here a week, and I've already started using "when" instead of "if." I've only made one joke about the link between toilet paper and beer, and where is the fear? (Why am I trying so hard to rhyme all these words?)
This love affair is going to be an exercise for my heart. An exercise in the difference between daydreams and futures. The difference between dreaming and building, wanting and choosing.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mnOrrknTxbI&feature=player_embedded
And her kids. Gods, her kids and the roller-coaster of thoughts that time with them sends me off on. This weird sort of crazy that spells out every inch of the miles between her home and mine. This insanity which whispers that intensity can never completely replace duration.
I've often joked that children are walking clocks. I've called them a constant reminder of the passage of time. No matter how little you pay attention, kids are still growing up. You might lose track, but the next time you see them, their very presence will remind you: time has passed.
Only, this time, they remind me that time has not passed, reminds me that no matter how intensely I desire, no matter how deeply I believe, how tightly I close my eyes and deny, it has only been two more days.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbnQfFaxkno&feature=related
I have not known and loved her for years. I do not know her every aspect of her soul. I have not earned the trust and esteem of her friends, conspirators and children, no matter how much I want to skip those steps and just be there. Be that. Have been that.
It collides across my frustrations with my friends in Chicago, who decidedly refuse to act like we've known each other for decades (even though I've never asked them to do otherwise). It finds resonance with the other mothers that I've spent time with in the last year, and makes me fear my own intentions in ways I never would have thought to until now. Until I wanted a single mother's children to love me for no better reason than this:
I want to be free to love all of her.
And as much as I'd like to think otherwise, the ticking of the clock keeps telling me Not yet. Not yet. Not yet....
