Dear Larcy, a sickbag
So it finally happened. You and me in the sun, between the trees and purge, here’s comes a…year.
A year, indeed. Decisions made, continents crossed, hearts crushed and bloomed, shoes worn down to untenable bunion level.
But, you did it. You went, you came (not all over it’s face) and you returned.
And you’re still wondering why it feels so strange.
And you’re still wondering why it feels so foreign.
And you’re still wondering why the transition did nothing to distract you.
And so, we walked, and you remembered the craziness and the cold grey skies, and i remembered the insanity about couches and bjork hairdos. I laughed at my own seemingly quiet year, and you renounced all knowledge of otherwise.
Stop worrying about potentially embarassing crutches are. Everybody uses them babe, its only the brave that admit it. Some people have console games and/or drug habits, we have crowded house and a box of letters from 1996, and 12 years later. There are worse things.
Starting a life anew is just an illusion. It’s not the scariest thing in the world because it still has possibility. Its the ending of the life anew that means more loss.
And when you said to me on Friday night, on a beach, under the stars, that you really weren’t sure about all that this place has, and the people within, i get you. I get that you’re discomforted by it – I am too. If its not everyone settling into their own piggies and pondles around the dinner table, it’s the peggies and the puerile waiting to be served the scraps. The truth it has nothing to do with here or there – it’s life. And if you’re really worried about it, well, you’re living it anyway. Most people aren’t.
You worry that you don’t give me enough perspective. I’d respond with have you met you?
It’s probably unlikely that you or i will end up bitter, weird gardeners living with our parents but then, why not grab life by it’s hoohah and see where it lands up anyway? It’s not about the garden, it’s about the us in it.
So much codespeak in this sickbag it may as well have been written in hieroglyphics. (i feel compelled to write footnotes hehe4)
I like that we’re like that. I like that you’re back. I like that alot indeed.
Welcome home Larcy Jane McArsey. No, I still have not washed my cheek.