Wednesday, April 10, 2013


Spring was progressing nicely. Textures of the new season emerged. Snow traced herringbone patterns in fields. Tulip leaves speared my garden. Bud bumps foreshadowed future blossoms on tree branches. There were even the occasional crocus, daffodil or grape hyacinth. Good signs all.

Then, Wham! The winds went crazy, the temperature plummeted and snow threatened. We all retreated indoors, lighted our fireplaces and ate soup.

About the same time, I received a letter from someone from my past that knocked me for a loop.

The past should stay past. 

You can’t go home again. 

 Isn’t there another cliché I could use here?

 Perhaps, ‘let sleeping dogs lie.’ (But who is the dog?)

Twice we had connected. Twice we ended the connection … no that’s not true, I ended the connection because it was too painful for me, too one-sided.

He is brilliant, creative, unique and (most of the time) supremely self-confident. I am intelligent (not brilliant) creative (on a more conventional scale), pretty ordinary, and only tentatively self-confident.

And he is oblivious to normal stuff like domesticity, commitment, grocery shopping, or any aspect of standard suburban existence.

 Still, after a decade, he called, then wrote, suggesting a rendezvous.

Why? We’re both older of course. Perhaps mortality was the motivation. But a one-side relationship on the edge of the grave does not appeal to me. I’d rather be alone – with my cats and computer and community of friends.

So I said no, but thank you.

And lo! The sun is shining again.

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