Day Dream Sky

Standing in line at the cafe.

I eavesdrop on the matrons in front of me espousing the artisanal toast options.

In between chat of avocados and sea salt

I think about you.

Wondering how it is that I seem to have fallen

Again.

Again.

Again.

In love with you.

There is this continuous deep dive into you.

I question the $5.62 I spent on the latte,

Then reverse the thought of scarcity,

Settling, as I do at table, abandoned and

Left to me at just the right time so that I may contemplate

Delirious sun setting splendor through the

Corporeal windows framing the street scene.

The palimpsest of my desire for you underneath that sky,

Like the twining of Christmas lights around a telephone pole,

Wrapped up in you.

Once my latte arrives, I sigh with pleasure.

It was worth the cost of admission.

Like you, it is the best in the city.

Reminding me too, of our moment there months ago

When I sitting ensconced in the window seat fervent with fresh love for you

Scribbling poetry about you into my notebook

Whilst you texted me from the long line sprawling out the door,

“Are you hungry?”

And when I didn’t respond, too wrapped up in my poem, you

My muse,

Brought me back a salad with my coffee.

I saw the text as you were walking back with the plate,

My response would have been, “hungry for you,” but a salad will suffice.

For the moment.

That reply died on my fingertips as I was too caught in the splendor of light

Falling though the window, making you seem already a nostalgia piece.

You lit up, loved up by the glittering filament of sunshine splayed across your face.

I regarded that space today, from a different table, marveling at how

I catch the feeling of you with all my senses.

You embody me.

I am entwined with you.

A double helix.

An infinity sign, worn in silver on my wrist.

Possessed and pleased and dressed up in pleasure, encircled.

The gift of the Universe in a little blue box.

What I once thought was a hoax.

Soap opera.

Dramatic invention.

Fairy tale.

Fable.

Why!

Turns out ’tis true.

There is love and then, there is you.

Inflamed I sit now

Amongst the hum of humanity, the clatter of cups and spoons.

To find myself

Transported to you.

Not for naught this love for you.

Love notes scrawled on a legal pad

Dressed up in a leather-bound folder

My Balthazar baby, conversations on the sidewalk after brunch.

You are everything and everywhere.

Tattooed, literally into my center.

I hold you tight.

I am content.

Knowing, for you told me so,

That I am your dream baby.

Knowing.

That I am.

Now and always.

Your,

Baby girl.

Bruised

But not broken.

And I have to admit, a bit chagrined, but fuck it, overall, very happy with what went down at the dentist today, despite feeling like the girl who cried wolf.

“Bite down, bite down, and bite down, pain?” Asked my dentist.

“Nope,” I shook my head, and every time he poked the tooth that has been bothering me, I felt like cringing because I was expecting it to be painful, I mean, have you seen the pokey tools a dentist uses?

I was not expecting just pain either, I was expecting excruciating pain.

After I went to bed last night, feeling a little bit high from the fever I was running, I figured I better get a good nights sleep and let myself sleep a little longer than I would have since I figured I was going to have either no breakfast or a very light breakfast.

I was preparing myself for having to get surgery.

I really was.

“What about here?  Any pain?” My dentist continued prodding my tooth.

NOTHING.

I really felt abashed.

“No,” I told him, “I can’t describe it, but it hurts so much when it happens, but not necessarily when I chew or bite down, although it does happen that way sometimes, it just surprises me with it, it feels like a knife being slipped into my tooth.”

A long skinny sharp knife.

And.

Hello.

I’m running a fever again, by the way, but I just took some antibiotics, so hopefully that will burn out in a little while.

He took three different sets of x-rays.

And nothing, no cavities, nothing.

I thought maybe I had a cracked tooth, but nope, the dentist told me, “that’s a natural part of your tooth, you’ve probably had that since you were six and it wasn’t really apparent until we did the deep clean, you just never noticed it before.”

“You do have an infection in your lymph node,” he said, I had pointed out the fever and the swelling along my jaw line, “but I don’t think that’s associated with the tooth, that’s something else, so I’ll write you up a script for antibiotics, as for the tooth, well, it’s probably bruised, so be careful chewing anything tough and give it a few weeks.  If you’re still experiencing pain, call us and we’ll see you again.”

And that was it.

Well.

That was almost it.

“Since you’re here, we’ll do a cleaning,” and he did and I walked out of the office feeling light as a bird feather and happy and it was sunny and the ocean was blue and my god, life is good.

I really though I was going to get a t root canal today.

In fact, the dentist told me that was what he was expecting to do with me when he heard what my symptoms are.

Man.

Fevers are super weird.

My face is so hot right now, even my ears are hot.

I don’t have strep, no sore throat, and I checked my tonsils last night and I don’t have tonsillitis and I don’t have mono, I’ve got too much energy for that.

Nor do I have an ear ache, and well, I have no idea what the infection is about, but it’s there.

My dentist just told me to make sure I did the entire course of the antibiotics and I have to take them four times a day, so they’ll be coming with me to work and my internship.

I don’t mind, I’m just so glad that I don’t have any issues with my teeth.

I did miss the yoga class I had signed up for, but whatever.

I just let the day happen after I left my dentist.

Talked to my best friend and my person back to back and let them know I was in the clear.

I went and did a little grocery shopping.

Came back home and had a latte and wrote for about a half hour and then went and got a pedicure.

Man it felt nice.

It felt like a day off.

Even though I still had to go to my group supervision, but it was chill.

I had a salad for lunch and a white peach and listened to the folks in my group check in about their clients.

I day dreamed a bit.

I admit it.

And when supervision let out I let myself go shopping.

I hit Nordstrom’s Rack and scored.

It took time, it’s always hit or miss with me and Nordie’s Rack.

Sometimes I get great things.

Sometimes I spend three hours wandering around and leave with a pair of socks.

Today was more fruitful and I am very happy with my haul.

Two pretty bras and pairs of panties.

Two pairs of very nice high-end jeans, Paige Brand, one in super dark denim and the other in black, both skinny and form-fitting, and my God, my ass looks good in them.

Just saying.

A super chic white cotton button up.

And a sharp as fuck black blazer.

I scored.

I also spent my clothing allowance for the month.

But that’s alright.

I don’t have a lot of time on my hands to go shopping anyway, so to do it all in one fell swoop was fine.

Especially since what I got are all staples.

I will admit I was looking for a pretty dress, I’m always on the look out for a pretty dress, but the jeans and white cotton shirt combo and the blazer, well, I can wear them as my therapist outfit and for going out.

I don’t know that I want to wear the white shirt to work, the baby is now eating solid foods, I can just see it getting splattered with pureed sweet potato.

But.

Really I can interweave all the clothes I got today into my wardrobe in a very cohesive way.

Then I went and saw my fellows over in the NOPA and damn, it was good.

And.

Then.

Home.

A nice bit of roast chicken, some brown rice, clipping all the tags off my clothes, and putting my things away.

I added my hours to Track My Hours.

Bringing me up 10 184.25.

Only 2,815.75 to good.

Ha.

Vomit.

Anyway.

One little day at a time.

That’s all I got and today.

Well.

It was, despite my worst fears, a really damn good day.

Yes.

Really.

It was.

Flip A Bitch

I found myself doing a surprising and sudden u-turn on Folsom Street today.

Oh please.

Don’t worry.

My person arched his eyebrow at me when I said that to him tonight over some sumptuous red beans and rice with spicy Andouille sausage at Brenda’s.

“I was careful!” I exclaimed, “I looked both ways and there was no traffic anywhere, and there was a really good reason why I did it.”

And there was.

Tub Tim Siam Massage.

Oh yes.

I got a fucking massage.

I am so proud of myself.

It’s been on my mind for weeks if not months.

I have had on again off again pain in my left arm for a long time, its soft tissue pain and sometimes I get wheedle it out with a Lacrosse ball, those small hard rubber balls massage therapists and rehab therapists use for working through muscle knots.

But most of the time it comes back and harasses the shit out of me at some point and it was really bothering me yesterday.

I don’t know if it was the yoga class I took yesterday or what, I mean, I carry most of my stress in my shoulders anyway, so could be just a big build up, but it has been pretty discomforting now for, well, months.

It’s not so bad that I can’t deal and I do.

I carry the baby at work, I do my blogging and my writing and I show up for yoga.

But I could really feel it yesterday, I could feel it flaring up when I was riding my scooter, I could feel it when I went to bed, it was up and down my arm and into my neck and at one point I swear I felt it in the left side of my face.

I have been to a massage therapist years ago who specialized in pain management through massage and I have thought about going and seeing her, but she was expensive and I had been given a gift certificate from my employers, otherwise I would have never seen her at all.

Anyway.

I had been to Tub Tim one other time when it first opened and that was back in December.

And I hadn’t a massage prior to that in years.

So when I zipped by on my scooter heading out to grab a late lunch after going to my group supervision at my internship, I flipped a bitch and decided it was time to get that massage.

I grabbed a light lunch at Rainbow and went to Tub Tim Siam.

It’s a small spot and I wasn’t sure if they would have time for a walk in, but I was going to check and if they didn’t at least make myself an appointment to be seen and seen soon.

But.

Yes!

They had an opening.

I got a ten minute hot sauna to warm up my muscles and then I got an hour-long traditional Thai massage.

Which means that they manipulate you muscles using hands, feet, elbows, and knees.

It was amazing.

It also hurt like a bitch at times.

Inside my head the conversation went like this: “ow, ow, ow, Oh My God, OW! Oooh, oh that feels so nice, OW, ow ow, ow, ouch, shit, fuck what is that, OMG that feels so good don’t stop, ouch, ow, ow, OWOWWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW, i”m going to die.”

And then I would remind myself to breathe into the pain and to relax and to let it go.

She found spots that I knew where really bothering me, I had circled them on the sheet they asked me to fill out, and then some that I was expecting that were excruciating when they were being worked on, but after, amazing how much better I felt.

I mean, I felt lighter walking out of the shop.

I need to do that more often.

It’s not something I can do weekly, it’s a little too pricey for me, but maybe once a month, alternate between doing a Thai massage and then going and hitting the Imperial Day Spa, the Korean women’s only bath house on Geary.

The spa is only $25 a session.

I think that’s the kind of self-care I really need to let myself have as I continue moving forward with taking on clients and doing the psychotherapy work.

I’ll be back to school soon too.

Eek.

In about a month.

Shit will get really real.

But.

I’m not there yet and I’m not going  to live in the future.

Just today.

All I have to do is today.

I can get lost in the “there won’t be enough time” bullshit story my brain likes to spin me out with.

But the fact is, there is enough time, and all the things I need to do get done and I’m going to be ok.

Because I already am.

I had a beautiful day today.

I did some great self-care.

I went to yoga in the morning, had a super hot shower, washed my hair, I had a yummy breakfast and a big latte, I did laundry, I wrote a bunch, I did some e-mails for my internship and I took care of little household stuff that needed attending.

I dressed becomingly.

I wore a pretty dress and shoes.

I took my time on my scooter and didn’t get crazy trying to speed to my internship.

I had a great group supervision meeting and I got a massage.

Then I went and did the deal and it was fantastic.

Afterwards me and my person went to Brenda’s and had a good catch up.

It was perfect.

The scooter ride home was even perfect.

Not too cold, there was still a kiss of warmth left in the night and I could smell a bonfire down at Ocean Beach.

Note to self time to get in a fire at the beach, that too has been too long.

And now.

I’m home.

Cozy and relaxed.

I even signed up for a yoga class in the morning.

I am held and cared for and I deserve to have these nice things.

Yoga.

Massage.

My scooter.

My home.

I work so damn hard.

It’s nice to take a moment and appreciate my efforts once in a while.

So, yes, I may have made an illegal U-turn in the middle of Folsom Street today.

But it was for a really good reason.

I promise.

 

Tired

But.

In a good way.

I got up at 6:30 a.m.

I didn’t get my full night’s sleep, but I got close, I had been up later than I wanted to the night previous, so I was ready for bed when it came last night, but my thoughts were busy being annoying, it took a little while to drop of.

But when I did.

Holy shit

I did.

Slept like a rock.

Grateful for that and that I don’t hesitate to getting out of bed when the alarm goes off, I don’t hit the snooze, I just get the fuck up.

I  read somewhere once that snooze actually back fires on you and it’s better to just get up and go, of course I could just be making that up, but that’s what I do.

I get the fuck up.

I got dressed.

I put on my interview shoes.

I peeped the weather.

Fuck yes!

The rain cleared and I was able to take the cover off my scooter and ride it down to my interview today with my new supervisor.

Yes.

That’s correct, my new supervisor.

I have another.

Score!

Very, very, very happy about that.

It’s a small piece, but I piece I needed to address and I’m so grateful to have it taken care of

And actually.

Scratch that.

It is a big deal and it was more than just a small piece, I put in some work to find this person, co-ordinate my schedule with him, ask questions, collaborate with the practicum placement office and do my homework.

And I showed up.

On time.

Early.

I found motorcycle parking by the Ritual Coffee house in Hayes Valley and I had a full punch card from when I was nannying by the Ritual in the Mission, so I scored a free latte and happily traipsed over to the office on the corner of Fell and Gough.

I let myself in using the code and went up the stairs.

I paced around the waiting room, paid the bathroom an unnecessary visit, just in case, and practiced breathing.

Then.

I met him.

My new supervisor.

We went into his office and talked for an hour.

I told him a little bit about me, how I came into the program, what I was planning on doing with the degree, first my MFT (Marriage & Family Therapist) license, then eventually my PhD in Psychology.

I told him about having taken one class as an undergraduate and then what happened when I was at Burning Man, yes that is where I decided to go to grad school, and how that experience unfolded and led to me applying to CIIS (California Institute of Integral Studies), how I balance my recovery with my work, and where I will be doing my practicum hours at.

We had talked for about a half hour when, and I’m not sure exactly when the shift happened, but it happened, and there I was saying, “well I hope that I will be working with you,” and then.

Then.

Then he looked at me, almost surprised, “oh absolutely, the slot is yours.”

Thank you God.

I opened up my binder and handed over my paperwork that I needed him to sign and yes.

He signed them.

Thank God.

And handed them back to me, I felt like I was handling precious metals and jewels so carefully and reverentially I put back those papers, 3/4s filled out, I just need my school advisor and the head of the department to sign off.

He’s one and the same for me, so that should be pretty easy.

Actually.

I should e-mail him too, set up a time to make sure that I had them to him, he signs, then I walk over to the practicum office and hand them off.

God damn it will feel so good to have this all sorted.

It basically is.

And I like my new supervisor quite a bit.

He happened to intern with my favorite professor, which was a serendipitous conversation, he’s psychodynamically inclined, also a hot modality for me, and he went through the same program that I am going through, so he has experience with the school.

Although he admitted he’d not worked with any interns that were getting their hours through the site I’m at.

And we talked about that.

And we talked about my schedule and we set our first date to do the work.

I will begin with him on Monday, April 24th.

I will meet with him once a week for three semesters while I am in school.

Every Monday morning at 9 a.m. for one summer semester, one fall semester, and one spring semester.

Three total semesters of practicum must be compete for me to graduate.

I will graduate from the program in May 20018.

And I’ll get to walk with that graduating class complete in my practicum.

A lot of folks don’t start their practicum until next fall semester, the majority of my cohort, from what I can tell will be starting then,  and they’ll be able to walk, but not graduate officially until after finishing the summer of 2018 practicum.

I will circumnavigate that and be free to walk as a graduate.

I am so down with that I can barely breathe.

I mean.

It’s a hell of a lot of work.

But.

As it was suggested to me today.

“Take a minute and appreciate what you accomplished today,” she admonished me over the phone, “don’t just jump into the next thing to be anxious about.”

Gah.

I know, right?

Because I was so ready to go there, but there is no there there.

I am allowed to enjoy this moment, this work has been, well, work, and I deserve to acknowledge to myself that I have been showing up to it and meeting it and matching it.

And I have a phone interview in the morning before work to secure a therapist.

Fingers crossed that will be taken care of tomorrow and then.

Shit.

I can go back to just “worrying” about my homework.

Bwhaahahaha.

Sigh.

I did that too, today, I did homework on my lunch break.

Maybe I take myself out to do something sweet this weekend, really take a moment to let myself enjoy what I have done over the last week and a half.

It’s been a lot and it is an accomplishment.

Yes.

There is more work to do.

But.

For right now.

Let me just.

Take.

A fucking.

Moment.

You did good today kid, you really did.

Seriously.

Carmen, Let’s Not

Talk about it.

“It makes me sad to think about it,” he sighed and leaned into me.

I had just chased him down from the kitchen to the dining room into the living room where we collapsed on the leather couch by the Christmas tree.

He was full of wiggles and silliness, but underneath was far more sorrowful than I had even realized.

“The Santa in the van bag,” he said looking at the back of the Christmas tree, “that’s from you, isn’t it.”

“Yes, doll, it is, but you have to wait until Christmas day, but yes you guessed right, there’s a present in that bag for you and one for your brother,” I said and stroked his hair.

“Are you really going to be done on Friday,” he asked me.

“Yes, my sweet boy, I am, that is my last day,” I answered him, my heart swelling up.

I have said many good byes over the years to my charges, but most of them, I think, I could be wrong, but I think, didn’t realize that I was saying goodbye for good. I have not had the experience of being with older kids, older, ha, 6.5 years old and 4.5 years old, still so sweet and young (although completely dastardly about the potty talk, my God, little boys like to talk about poo, I had an idea, but shit, hahahahaha, pun intended, they do!) and so tender, but so much more cognizant of what is happening to them and around them.

“Carmen, I don’t want to talk about it, it just makes me sad to think about it, I’m going to cry when you leave,” he said looking at the Christmas tree and holding my hand.

OH MY GOD.

Child, you are breaking my heart.

I seriously do not know how I wasn’t a slobbering mess on the couch.

I mean.

Oof.

So much love and bitter sweetness, this saying goodbye.

I won’t lie, there’s also a part of me that is ready for the next adventure, I am, but I am also having all the feels.

Every damn one of them.

I have gotten, with both boys, this past week, to have quiet moments with each of them that have just blown my heart to smithereens.

Reading and cuddle time with the littlest and though has officially phased out of the nap stage, he still gets awful cozy around quiet time and just wants to cuddle on my lap and read stories.

I am super grateful that I have had this last week with them, pretty uninterrupted with other jobs, school, or life stuff.

Oh.

Life stuff is still happening, but I have gotten to work full-time hours with the boys, breakfast to dinner the last three days and though occasionally a goofy handful, there’s not really been tempter tantrums or drama.

Knock on wood.

Tomorrow and Friday I will have short days with them.

Tomorrow I go in early and I’m just edging into up past my bed time with my early start, but I had to write, not having written last night.

My blog got laid.

Ahem.

And so I had to write tonight.

I don’t like taking too much time off from it, and though the lack of sleep my affect me a bit, I’ll be out early as well.

The mom is taking the boys to A Charlie Brown Christmas matinée at the San Francisco Symphony.

I”ll do breakfast, a dash out to the park, lunch, baths probably and then get the boys dressed up in their finest.

Their finest is pretty fucking cute too.

Little velvet blazers.

Ugh.

Adorable.

And, AND, bow ties.

I mean.

Seriously, the cute factor is off the hook.

So I’ll be out by 1:30 p.m.

I have a meeting with my person and then a bit of free time before doing the deal.

I’m thinking that once I finish up with my person I will head over to Folsom and 14th, right around the corner from Rintaro.

I’m not going to go eat high-end Japanese street food, although there’s always  a desire to eat good like that all the time, it’s pretty outside the box as far as what I want to drop money wise on food.

No.

I’m not going to be grabbing a bite.

Rather.

I discovered a new Thai Massage place that had just opened and it had a bunch of grand opening specials listed on the chalk board outside the store front.

Including a free ten minute hot/dry sauna.

Oh yes, I’d like that please and thank you.

I’m thinking that I’ll book myself a massage for Friday after my last day with the boys.

I’m getting out early on Friday as well.

I think by 1 p.m.

The boys and I will do breakfast, maybe go to the park, but secretly I think I will take them to Ritual Coffee and get a last latte with them and get them little steamed milks or hot chocolates and we’ll sit on the big carved ship bench parklet in front of the cafe and play pirates.

Then the house, one last lunch with my monkeys and then they, lucky boys, are going to a private showing of Star Wars at the Roxie Theater in the Mission with a friend and classmate whose mum rented the theater for his birthday.

Nice birthday party if you can get it.

Heh.

I was, at first, a little upset that our last day was going to be cut short.

Then.

I had a change in perspective and got really grateful.

What better way to leave?

On a happy note, saying goodbye may make the boys a little sad, but hey, they’ll be heading shortly thereafter to Star Wars on the big screen.

That should provide a little distraction.

And.

It’s not a final goodbye, they will be in my lives, probably more so than many of my past charges, as the new family I work for attends their school.

I will get to see them and hug them and watch them grow bigger.

“You’ll visit us though, right?”  He asked, worriedly taking my hand, “please visit us, as much as you can.”

Oh bunny.

“Yes, as much as I can, I won’t be leaving your life, I promise,” I hugged him and though I teared up, I did not cry.

Saved that up for right now.

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

That I shall say goodnight.

Till it be morrow.

I Saw Your Car

In the parking lot at the 7-Eleven on the corner.

It sounds like the start to a really bad country western song, doesn’t it?

I kept right on right on, moving on.

I did stop.

I did pause.

I did have a wave of something come over me.

I suspect that you were thinking of me, I had you sudden and random in my head as I switched out my glasses and put on the frames you liked to see me in before leaving my house this evening to walk up and do the deal at the place up the road.

I am tan and my hair is in braids.

Like you like.

Like that.

I conjured you to the parking lot, heir to Slurpees and candy bars, to hot dogs on a rolling tray, glistening under the heat lamps, oily and delicious, the crisp coated chicken wings, baking under another set of lights, waiting to be scooped up into thin white paper bags, that spot with grease upon contact.

God only knows the years people have lost consuming such junk.

Devious in it’s siren song.

Though not so delicious as the memory of the first time we kissed.

And then.

I realized.

What the fuck am I doing standing on this sidewalk?

Do I really need to replay that mess?

No.

I have had these odd moments.

Moments when I feel like I’m being given a chance to go back and repeat old behaviors.

Or.

Move forward.

I fished in my purse for my phone, as though I suddenly had some momentous phone call coming in and I had to answer it.

Why was I there, on the sidewalk, stopped in my tracks?

Skin a glow.

Warm.

Soft, skirt billowing about my knees.

Then.

I put the phone resolutely back in my bag, there was no incoming message, there was no sign from God.

Although, there was.

There it was.

Make the decision.

Stay and talk and get wrapped up in a man who is not available for me to get wrapped up in, fantasize about a nothingness that is there, scuttling like a Kit Kat wrapper discarded in the parking lot.

Or.

Jump the other direction.

I was reminded that I was not to chase.

Not to pursue.

To know what I want.

And to sit and wait for that.

That the desire to chase was going to come up and I could let it pass through me and let it go out the other way, run down to the beach, sink into the sand, softly paddle down to the waves lapping at the moon.

And disappear underneath that yellow buttercream frosted moon, a dusted crescent sugar cookie, a soft bitten kind of love sailing over the black velvet waves.

Buh bye.

Bye, my baby, good bye.

I walked up the sidewalk.

I thought about all ways that I took care of myself today.

From sleeping in, to washing my bed sheets and making a fresh bed.

The good food I cooked for myself.

The writing I did.

The quiet time I took.

The phone calls I made and the conversations I had.

The gift I gave myself of not leaving the neighborhood, not seeking to have an agenda, to do something, to make something happen.

No need.

There was no need.

No.

The need was to go slow.

To languish in the sun.

Languid, liquid, warm, soft, sluiced with the sunshine.

It was not foggy today.

It’s Indian Summer in San Francisco.

And thank God.

It finally came.

Granted I spent much of “Fogust” out of town, but the few days that I was here in August, it was surprisingly grey and foggy and cold.

To come back, to be out of the first weekend of my second year of grad school and to have a day where it was sunny, warm, and without fog, was a huge gift.

One that my brain was eager to sabotage by running around and “getting stuff done.”

I have no real idea what this stuff was that needed to get done.

I went grocery shopping yesterday and I really didn’t need to do anything.

I was directed to get my “mind of me” and to go outside, go to coffee, go walk on the beach, get out of myself.

So.

I did.

I took a few phones calls in the back yard, checked in with my people, then walked up to Trouble Coffee And Coconut Club and had a very hot, very wet, very expensive latte.

I sat out in the front parklet and watched the ocean from the wooden top beam of the fenced in space.

I let the sun splash down on me.

I tasted the espresso and milk and let it envelop me.

I went to The General Store and actually found a dress I just adored and even though it was much more expensive than I wanted to spend, I liked it too much to not get it.

I spent the majority of my clothing allowance on it and smiled with sweet happiness that I allowed myself the gift of getting it.

I’ll wear it tomorrow.

I thought about relationships and myself and friendships and remembered the admonishment to spend time with either myself or with girlfriends.

Guy friends I can get too wrapped up in and the fantasy of maybe they’re the guy I should be dating gets in the way of it.

I remembered what my friend said, let it happen, sit still, allow the work to take and don’t push it.

I walked down to the ocean and walked along the beach.

I watched dogs jump in and out of the surf.

I watched surfers drift in and out of the waves.

The sun shone.

The sand stuck to my toes and then washed off as the water lapped over my feet, surprising, cold, crisp, alerting my whole body to how alive I am.

I found a large drift wood log and sat.

I watched a game of frisbee.

I checked some messages and saw a man I had dated a few months back commented on something I posted on social media, I texted him, answered the question, but did not pursue it further.  I didn’t ask, hey, what are you doing?  Want to hang out?

That’s the hard part.

The not pursuing.

Yet.

As I sit with myself, leaning more and more into the strength there.

I know that I am worthy of love.

Of pursuit.

And I’m not too concerned about it.

The feelings come and go.

But I don’t have to treat them as though they are real or permanent.

Just a fleeting kiss of ghosted memory.

And gone.

Like my footsteps past the parking lot.

The neon glow of the sign behind me casting a shadow ahead of me.

Glimmers come shining off the dance floor that I chose to exit from.

Asphalt sparkles in the night.

And the caress of wood smoke hovering in the saline air.

Love.

Love.

Here.

There.

Everywhere.

God, in the details.

The swish of my skirt around my ankles.

The curl of hair, tucked behind my ear.

And.

The soothing whisper.

Soon.

Here.

At the still point of this Universe.

Love.

Will find me.

On the corner of 46th and Judah.

A whimpering croon, oh baby girl.

Just.

Come.

And.

Hold my hand.

And together.

We will walk.

Towards that unknown land.

Love.

Just there, over the dunes.

Under the cusp of the moon.

I am here.

I await.

Still.

And.

Strong.

For.

You.