Missing
Dear D.,
It's a grey day here; occasional breaks in the pewter sky show that the clouds are thin, but they diffuse the light. There is no heat in the air today, but it is not cold either. I have projects piled upon projects to occupy me: Harlequin, Santa Claus, Homework (what would a "Homework" costume look like, do you suppose?), Housework, cats and dogs requiring petting and companionship, a car that desperately needs cleaning, weeds to pull and grass to mow.
I have stabbed ineffectually at each of these chores, done an hour's work here, then twenty minutes there, and each time I feel there is more to be done and less accomplished than when I started. Knowing that my mood is temporary is small solace. Knowing too that, had I left it behind to fly into your warm and enticing presence the chores would still await my return, does not keep me from desiring to be with you.
It's an ancient myth, that one's troubles will dissapate like thin clouds, once one is in the presence of the beloved. It's all wrong, too -- but like the weeds that choke my flower gardens, it is a hardy perennial, and seductive in it's early promise.
So many words, just to say "I miss you."
But, I do.
It's a grey day here; occasional breaks in the pewter sky show that the clouds are thin, but they diffuse the light. There is no heat in the air today, but it is not cold either. I have projects piled upon projects to occupy me: Harlequin, Santa Claus, Homework (what would a "Homework" costume look like, do you suppose?), Housework, cats and dogs requiring petting and companionship, a car that desperately needs cleaning, weeds to pull and grass to mow.
I have stabbed ineffectually at each of these chores, done an hour's work here, then twenty minutes there, and each time I feel there is more to be done and less accomplished than when I started. Knowing that my mood is temporary is small solace. Knowing too that, had I left it behind to fly into your warm and enticing presence the chores would still await my return, does not keep me from desiring to be with you.
It's an ancient myth, that one's troubles will dissapate like thin clouds, once one is in the presence of the beloved. It's all wrong, too -- but like the weeds that choke my flower gardens, it is a hardy perennial, and seductive in it's early promise.
So many words, just to say "I miss you."
But, I do.