“Oh, and I’m adamant about this one—If he doesn’t like hot cocoa... On the other hand, if he knows exactly what to say…And if he doesn’t kiss you, but you feel like you’ve been kissed…”
07 November 2008
Take a breath.
It's been that kind of week. And some changes will be taking place, starting next Monday...but I don't really want to go into it. The purpose of this blog was never to air my grievances, but rather to find inspiration in the depths of the greyness. I keep having an image of the tears I've been bottling up, cradled the the golden yolk of an egg in the bowl of a spoon. Just settling in my lower lid, as if it may nest there or spill over onto my cheek...and then memories of fingertips brushing away those tears, tasting the salt, squeezing my shoulder and telling me that everything will be fine.
So what do I do, when the spoon is overflowing and the fingertips have left? I curl up on my couch, with Once and Again DVD episodes, cocoa, and the latest issue of Lula. And I ignore the millions of questions that are running through my mind, and instead I try to think about
finding time to read Brideshead Revisited and how years from now, when I have my act together, I will look back in awe that I felt lost once upon a time-- and I will know that somehow that feeling subsided and I became fulfilled, and I felt infinite.