it's been a while...
It’s fall. The fall came, today, out of the sky, with the movement of the high pressure systems and a little bribery of Mother Nature. The sky cleared its visage, and its beauty surpassed anything on this earth. The weather was right, and as I set out to conquer the bus system of Boston, I knew the day would bring great things.
Sometimes, on a night alone, she thinks of him. Sometimes, on a night alone, he thinks of her. Sometimes these thoughts occur at exactly the same moment, and she and he are connected, and they never know it. They did share something…the reason he held back, the reason he did not give himself was because he wanted part of her, not all of her. But in the end, he realized that the real reason was because all he wanted was everything, to be encompassed in her. But, as with some things, it was too late when he realized that it hurt them both. They are both happy now, but when these shared thoughts, at exactly the same moment, occur, they both remember something that was true, and real. But that’s life, isn’t it?
The weather is changing, and it is time for us to become ready for such a change. Mid November, and the time is right, and here we are, waiting. I waited at the bus stop today, and I realized something: that everything was going to be…life. Life, and real. Real and true and life. All that we have is life.
All we have is life. Pain, happiness, joy, sorrow. Unfairness, karma, God, gods, the love of Jesus, the love of Allah, the love of one’s own soul. Life is where we are, life is what we will have, and life is what molded us as a human race. Life is what each has had, and some have been worth the struggle. There have been love stories, and lost loves. There have been tragedies, and comedies. There have been burdens, and weights, and chains. And there have been moments of hope, and continuity and faith. There have been moments of confusion, or frustration, or anger. There have been stories of the lonely, the homeless, the hungry, the ugly, the innocent, the arrogant, the ignorant.
There have been other people like me: a love, a lost, a confusion, a heart that starts feeling things it should again. The questioning, and the clearness. The first kiss, and the second…and the last. And yet, again, not the last. Then the real last. And the memories. And the dancing, and the beaches, and the stars. Three hours on a hammock. Crying in his arms over those three hours. Three more loving him.
There have been other people like me: they have seen movies that move them, they have seen the burdens of the world close enough to stay far, far away. They have taken trips to the ER, have gotten painful phone calls, and have known the words, “He’s gone.” They have been so stressed about things that would not matter if tomorrow their life was over and through.
There have been other people like me: they have been happy. They have strung popcorn on the thread for the Christmas tree. They have attended church, and hated it, and attended church, and loved it. They have a tradition for things, like cookies on girl’s night, like always picking the tree out the Saturday after Thanksgiving. They make “to do” lists and hang them on their walls, in their journals, in their minds. They have drafted these “to do” lists over again because they get cluttered. They have anger wheels from their best friends. They have pictures on their fridges, they have pictures on their desks.
There have been other people like me: those who make lists of those they love. Those who beach write, and those whose favorite place is the ocean and the barn of books that feeds their souls. There are others who take joy out of sending letters to their friends, and there are others who enjoy highlighting things that have taken place in their planners. There are others who connect with people they’ve never met, because they made eye contact in the Common, or through the Emerson Café window while James Taylor is singing to you (but not during the commercial break on the radio because those things don’t happen, you know, you only fall in love when the perfect music is playing…)
Sometimes, on a night alone, she thinks of him. Sometimes, on a night alone, he thinks of her. Sometimes these thoughts occur at exactly the same moment, and she and he are connected, and they never know it. They did share something…the reason he held back, the reason he did not give himself was because he wanted part of her, not all of her. But in the end, he realized that the real reason was because all he wanted was everything, to be encompassed in her. But, as with some things, it was too late when he realized that it hurt them both. They are both happy now, but when these shared thoughts, at exactly the same moment, occur, they both remember something that was true, and real. But that’s life, isn’t it?
The weather is changing, and it is time for us to become ready for such a change. Mid November, and the time is right, and here we are, waiting. I waited at the bus stop today, and I realized something: that everything was going to be…life. Life, and real. Real and true and life. All that we have is life.
All we have is life. Pain, happiness, joy, sorrow. Unfairness, karma, God, gods, the love of Jesus, the love of Allah, the love of one’s own soul. Life is where we are, life is what we will have, and life is what molded us as a human race. Life is what each has had, and some have been worth the struggle. There have been love stories, and lost loves. There have been tragedies, and comedies. There have been burdens, and weights, and chains. And there have been moments of hope, and continuity and faith. There have been moments of confusion, or frustration, or anger. There have been stories of the lonely, the homeless, the hungry, the ugly, the innocent, the arrogant, the ignorant.
There have been other people like me: a love, a lost, a confusion, a heart that starts feeling things it should again. The questioning, and the clearness. The first kiss, and the second…and the last. And yet, again, not the last. Then the real last. And the memories. And the dancing, and the beaches, and the stars. Three hours on a hammock. Crying in his arms over those three hours. Three more loving him.
There have been other people like me: they have seen movies that move them, they have seen the burdens of the world close enough to stay far, far away. They have taken trips to the ER, have gotten painful phone calls, and have known the words, “He’s gone.” They have been so stressed about things that would not matter if tomorrow their life was over and through.
There have been other people like me: they have been happy. They have strung popcorn on the thread for the Christmas tree. They have attended church, and hated it, and attended church, and loved it. They have a tradition for things, like cookies on girl’s night, like always picking the tree out the Saturday after Thanksgiving. They make “to do” lists and hang them on their walls, in their journals, in their minds. They have drafted these “to do” lists over again because they get cluttered. They have anger wheels from their best friends. They have pictures on their fridges, they have pictures on their desks.
There have been other people like me: those who make lists of those they love. Those who beach write, and those whose favorite place is the ocean and the barn of books that feeds their souls. There are others who take joy out of sending letters to their friends, and there are others who enjoy highlighting things that have taken place in their planners. There are others who connect with people they’ve never met, because they made eye contact in the Common, or through the Emerson Café window while James Taylor is singing to you (but not during the commercial break on the radio because those things don’t happen, you know, you only fall in love when the perfect music is playing…)