i have mornings to myself again.
(Did I say to her "This is making me sad. Let's not talk about it." Did I say that to her? Did I say that to her before I fell asleep? I was so tired, and she was wide awake, honest in the slow dawn of consciousness, as if musing to herself thoughts that had been deflected in the bustle of this city. And it sounds like something I would say when I'm tired and can't give full attention to another's words. Imagine! I'd been so afraid to allow myself her presence because she is one of the people in the center of my heart and the night I give a little into myself, to revisit childhood habits and movements that will always remain familiar and warm... if I had hurt her unintentionally!) Out of this fear, I telephoned her 4 times. And thank fucking god, I hadn't uttered those words. Even though the death of a 30 year old is so absurd, it does make me sad and I wouldn't want to talk about it with anyone else.
Ja, Ja, Ja
"Wir kampfen mit der Sprache.
Wir stehen im Kampf mit der Sprache."
We haven't even started though... honestly.
"I'd be in the backyard playing and I'd always hear you upstairs, playing the violin and sobbing at the same time." Ah, that's true... I did do that... and it makes me cry and smile to hear this memory of yours.
Hydrangeas, embroidered blouses, linen slacks and infinite time and space for forgiveness.
Hydrangeas symbolize, supposedly, the giver's gratefulness for the recipient's understanding.
And what about red painted wooden boxes, and music books and bamboo mats and cobalt blue tea kettles and green, unlined journals and turpentine diluted white oil paints and desaturated wildflowers and sepia ink name inscriptions?
(And when he finally finds the courage to give me gifts, they are so sentimentally useless and vain! Silly effusive books, hypothetical postcards, left-over train tickets and bottles of wine.)
Remember Mary, do not forget, to provide comfort to the ones you've chosen to love. To hear the changed intonations in their speech, to recognize the urgency in their eyes and the un-assuredness in their stride, to notice the difficulty in their minute movements and to be gentle, ever so gentle for them.
These days, I find myself thinking about Ming a lot. "Of all the people I discarded- he is the only one I miss... and hanging in the far right corner of my room is his necklace, that I overlook daily and even forget is there. But perhaps in some senses, it anchors me. Lily asked me last night "Am I the only person in the world who eats your leftovers? I must be!" She stated it like "I must be the only person who loves you so much." And of course- I love her for it and hell, I love Lily so much it hurts and hurts sometimes and I have to force myself into denial... but she isn't the only person who eats my leftovers... Ming did too and is it silly how it touches my heart when I remember?
If I ever need someone to take care of me completely selflessly- I will go to him and spend another, one more night in his bed, to be protected in a way I don't want to be- without any questions or responsibility. He spoiled me so much, I eventually found it repulsive.
"Ming used to buy me chocolate glazed munchkins from Dunkin Donuts. And I'd chew the chocolate glaze off and he'd eat the rest of the saliva covered donut. Now that! That is a husband!"