a few hours ago
I was standing in my kitchen, contemplating a sink full of dirty dishes and admitting to myself that I’d really love to put the chore off by calling a friend to chat, but that I can’t – easily – because I’ve been out of touch with everyone for over six months, long enough that the only person who still emails me is Al Gore.
I felt tears burning in my nose, and I let myself feel sorry for myself for about 90 seconds, but that’s all, because I have better things to do, and if I wanted a birthday party, dammit, I should have planned one.
Bean, the almost-five-year-old amateur psychologist, looks up from penmanship practice to ask me why I’m crying.
“Mommy’s only crying a little bit. I’m OK. I’m just sad because my birthday is tomorrow.”
He nods, wise and understanding. “You’re sad because it’s not your birthday right now.”
Which wasn’t the problem at all, but it was funny, and I laughed, which banished my tears for real. Then I washed the dishes, and we both got dressed for the beach, even though it’s raining, because we are not easily distracted from our dreams.
Posted on February 23rd, 2011 under Grenada • 
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February 23rd, 2011 at 4:51 pm
My dearest and sweetest of friends, a little bit of plom (poor little ol’ me) is bound to creep up into our lives on occasion. Never fear, my dear, you can get in contact with me whenever and however you wish. Your life is such a dance of people, places and creativity. We might not connect as often as our thoughts do, but know you are celebrated as a loyal and kind friend.
P.S. Happy birthday!
April 15th, 2011 at 4:32 pm
A late but very heartfelt THANK YOU, darling lilalia.