from my head before Sunday bed

Driving along alone I whoop the way you do when your favorite team wins the game in the final seven seconds.

Along my track of singledom I knew what then seemed impossible would happen to me some day. I knew one day I would meet someone and a first date would ... become. Standing in line admiring the boy sharing every day with the girl, her arm casually about his waist, or hands linked by fingers, bewildered once more at the familiarity I no longer shared with a lover, I mystically believed my life would grow to acheive that honor once more.

How many times in our lives do we have the strength that carries us intact from everything through nothing into a new everything? There is seemingly always something else up the road somewhere.

I certainly haven't known you adequately long enough to tell you I love you; I haven't known you long enough to tell you how often it has nearly slipped out at the ends of good night phone calls, when you curl into my chest at 7AM and I am so joyful I giggle out loud.

We are so new.



As a serious follow up in a casual tone to our friendly discussions about my continuing education hopes you postulated the option of my going to school for massage therapy. I've often thought of it and almost, almost applied two years ago but didn't put enough pressure on my reference letter writers and missed the deadline.

Here I am absorbing your confidence in me and thinking, Well who knows how massage therapy school will occur but something will work out. This is good. When I get so blindly optimistic it often means I'm going after something disregarding the potential strength of obstacles in the dark.