Thoughts A-swirl...

There are many things that are orbiting my life right now--most of them believably wonderful. Of course, with wonderment often comes risk, but I'm rarely risk averse (however, I do often hear my Mom's voice in my head).


Image via WikipediaTake today, for instance, I received a very sweet letter from a love that I had 20 years ago. She sent words across many miles to apologize for being unable to attend my birthday bash in a few weeks. Prior to her letter, I'd copied a snippet from my novel that was built from my experience with her, and that chapter opened up a big smile and a few questions that we gladly answered about how life has kinda makes us grow up. Though, I must openly publicize, she had to grow up more by doing that whole marriage and kids thing.


I've spent the better portion of the day in my most-frequent haunt on the Plaza, a place that I miss dearly, but won't be away from for too much longer. You know, things change. This place hasn't been the same since I shared a cookie while staring into the eyes of another, different long-time friend about a year ago. This coffeehouse still retains that memory even though the chairs have been moved around; I can still see that moment when I walk in here: no need to say much, feet from crossed legs finding nooks behind the calf of the other as our bodies relax in over-sized leather chairs, but our hearts shout non-verbal commandments of love that are obvious to all. And then there's that "she could walk in here any minute" thing since my love of this place also became her love of this place. Should that ever occur--knowing us it will--we'll just ride that wave when it rises. In a nutshell, I'm basically saying that this place has changed, too. It may be better. It may be worse. The jury is still out.



Things have a tendency to happen in threes for me. One. Two. Will report back in 3, 2, ...

daring the stranger

Image by misw via Flickrscars.
we know not that they will heal,
nor whether we want them to.
the memory of what hurt--
that painful ecstasy--
an indestructible monument to
the ebb
and the flow
and what's left behind by the tide
or the residual from the ride,
when we dare the stranger
to teach us something
we don't already know.

A Carol vs. A Story

Image by Peter E. Lee via Flickr"I have to run home and let my dog out; I'm sure he's dying," she said apologetically.

"I totally understand," I replied. "What's your dog's name?"

"Marley," she said. "But not a Marley & Me Marley."

"I read the book, but didn't see the movie," I said.

"I heard that the dog dies--"

"Yup," I interjected.

"--so I never saw it or read it," she finished. "My dog is A Christmas Carol Marley."

I'd been intrigued by her conversation the entire evening. It was a great evening to sit outside for a few beers and wonderful conversation, especially with someone that you didn't mind looking at on the other side of the table. Beautiful can be distracting.

"Oh, which character?" I asked.

Flatly, she said, "The dead one."

My mind raced through all the characters from the movie, not at all remembering a dead one. There was one that got his tongue stuck to a frozen flag pole. There was one that got shot in the eye with a BB gun. But no dead one. I feigned understanding and proceeded to grab the check and pay the bill. As we approached the register, her face showed horror.

"My wallet. SHIT." She looked at me quickly, and then back to her purse where she rummaged through its various residents. "I left my wallet at the last place."

Before she finished her alert, I already knew the solution, "I'll pay this bill. You run back to the last place and catch them before they close."

"Okay," she said and bolted out the door.

Before they close? How do I know when they close? There was only one other couple there when we left and we had felt like the server was pushing us to finish our drinks. That was, like, an hour ago. There's no way they're still open. Yet, somehow I knew they were still open and that the solution would work brilliantly.

I briskly walked the two blocks up the street and met her in the middle of the street. As she walked toward me, I could see the beam of a smile on her face and a pink Kate Spade wallet wagging in her hand. Without thinking, I simply hugged her; I was happy that it had all worked out. Maybe it was strange; maybe it wasn't. We'd only known each other for a few hours, but we'd already achieved a friendly comfort. We walked side-by-side back to her car, hugged once more and ended an enjoyable evening of conversation.

As I walked home, an aha moment occurred that caused me to chuckle aloud. I'd left a mental question mark in our conversation about Marley where I knew I'd missed something. As I replayed the chat, I knew that we'd gone from Marley & Me the book-slash-movie to A Christmas Carol, and then I realized that my mind had stayed with the silver screen and accessed a completely different, and much more recent, holiday classic. As a self-proclaimed reader and writer, I'll surely catch hell for that error at some point in the future.