And Another Year Goes By

"I'll never forget you.  I don't want

to either. Along with the great sadness
that comes from missing you lives a 
universe of gratitude for having shared 
love at all.  Our connection changed my life.
I am honored to be able to miss you."
Scott Stabile

And so, love, the anniversary of another year of being apart from you has passed.  I went on a hike with a group of friends yesterday so as not to brood, and I was able to smile and laugh, not the fake laughter that came when first you were gone, but with true enjoyment, though perhaps tinged with sorrow that you would not be around for me to share with:  the things I saw and heard and thought.  On the way home, I drove past the place where we first made love, tentative, drowning in each other, inebriated by the newness of each other.  The place where our first child was conceived.  The place where we fell in love.  A smile crossed my face as a song I always associated with those early days played on the radio: "Just Another Day in Paradise" by Phil Vassar.  What are the odds of that happening?  Did you, from wherever you are, arrange it?

How different those first days were, those days when we had nothing but each other.  An old, battered mobile home, mattress on the floor.  No table, no couch, just each other.  I look around me now.  So much STUFF all of which I would trade to be back there with you once again.  I like to think if that happened, if I woke up back in your arms, that we could avoid some of the mistakes we made along the way.  But then, of course, it would not have been us, for mistakes mold us as surely as if we were clay, and perhaps more so than successes.  

Today I rode my bike.  I hoped to ride farther and perhaps should have with the temperature being around 40 and the sun shining.   Thank you, love, for buying me a bicycle.  From the seat of that machine I can sing and laugh and dream and cry.  I can live in a way that I might, perhaps, have missed otherwise.  It has brought me friendships that I prize beyond measure.  No, I don't want to forget you.  I won't forget you.  But I am not, love, standing still and you would not want me to.  I like to think that when I laughed yesterday, you smiled.  

 

December Rides

"Time you enjoy wasting

is not wasted time."

Marthe Troly-Curtin

Two beautiful riding days, back to back, in December, both with friends.  It just doesn't get much better than that.  Yes, there are chores left to do.  I still have not restored any type of order to my home from the kitchen remodel which finally is nearing completion. And with Christmas approaching wrapping paper and home made projects are strung throughout the house, but I decide to ride both days.  And I am glad I do.  Each day, as I ride, I think what a beautiful day it is, with blue skies and lots of sunshine.  I give thanks and am grateful.  Adrienne Rich, in one of her poems, talks of growing protective toward the world.  These days I believe I understand her sentiments.  The world, it is not perfect, but then neither are we.

Yes, there is wind on the rides, bothersome, chilly and demanding, particularly on Wednesday, and it only reaches the fifties, but for December you can't ask for better weather. The miles yield to the spinning of my legs and, as I do each winter, I wonder how my legs can lose fitness so quickly.  I know it will take hours in the saddle in the spring to regain.  But still I delight in the effort.  Trees are bare offering no shelter from the wind but allowing views that are hidden at other times of the year.  There are no flowers.  Bird chatter is muted though at one point we pass a tree full of raucous crows and another time the songs of the geese flying fill the air.  Jokingly, I ask Paul if he thinks any of the geese ever worry about getting dropped. Neither of the courses is particularly scenic.  Both are basically flat. Indeed, I almost back out and ride from home today, but I am glad I didn't.

Laced with the riding is guilt for a house not yet back to where it needs to be, but then I realize Ms. Troly-Curtin is right.  I am enjoying myself and so the time is not wasted.  I am with friends.  That is never wasted time but treasure to be carried in the heart.  "It is the time you have wasted with your rose that makes it so important." (Antoine de Saint-Exupery) Colder weather will come and will bring snow or rain and the world will be gray and colorless. Household chores can be done on those days.  And I will dream of these days, of the laughter and joking, the warmth of spring and of friendship, and I will long for their renewal.  Perhaps to have stayed home, missing these two days of riding, is what would have been wasteful.  Regardless, I am glad for sunshine, friends, and bicycles and I refuse to feel guilty about it.  At least for today.