a winter's tale

he said he was sorry and i think he was. i think that what happens between us is something i can tell you about and i can try to explain but i don't know if it's something you'll understand. you've just never been here, you've never been in my shoes.

he's here for me when i need him: he not only has my back but he warms it, it's focused and intense. he's here enough that i feel like i can trust him, rely on him. he brings light into my life and without the person he is when he's wonderful-- i don't know much, but i know that i have never been as happy as i have been then. sitting outside, a cold beer and the sun on my face and Squire Tuck frolicking and this is what i want and it's who i want to be. this year was probably even better than most, despite the stormy unpleasantness in august.

and it was good for so long. september and october were like long apologies, like a daily dose of flowers and warmth to compensate for august. everything could be done: plant a late garden and it bursts forth. i walked home at twilight and felt safe, like i didn't need layers and layers of subterfuge, like i could be--not naked, i never feel that safe, but like i could show myself and it would be okay. like i could flirt a little, something low-necked, a bit of ankle showing. you know.

the window replacement? that was hard times. what if he hadn't been here for me during that? what would i have done. and my parents? only a week, but the whole time, everything was perfect, i danced alongside my mother kicking leaves and saying "see how he's good? see how he's good to me? see why i stay? all this beauty!"

but then today i woke up and it was as if all that happiness never happened. he says, "i held back as long as i could but you knew my nature when you came to me." and i did, but still, it was like ice that wanted to rip through me, take out my heart, make me question everything. it was a cold slap in the face; it was siberia. and there will be no relief.

it will go on like this for months. there's no point in fighting it. i know how to handle what's gone and what's past help. i will hunker down and take it because i know in the end it makes me stronger. or actually i don't know that but it's what i say and it's how i get through.

i know some people who think i should leave. who think that four months of bliss doesn't make up for six months of crying every day, tears frozen to my eyelashes and knowing that every day etches more wrinkles into my face than a month of cigarettes. the fear of being knocked down, sliding, the constant ringing in my ears and the feeling that maybe i chose wrong. i don't know what to say to those people. i usually say, "come in the spring. come in the summer."

first snowfall today, y'all.
please to remember that i speak the metaphor fluently, hm.

Comments

[Di]

There were pieces I did understand.

Life is all about choice and the choices are yours ... let's write through the winter.

[mig]

watch out for the ice, pal.
(how's petr taking your affair with summer?)

[tuckova]

Mig- Petr accepts my love/hate relationship with the weather as long as I am able to maintain a more emotionally consistent one with the humans around me.

[Di]

Lol, delicious ... I am such a literary babe.

[jilbur]

I used to think that somewhere within us we know what we want, but then I found out to my sorrow that this is not always true. Or rather, it's true but that 'somewhere' can be quite inaccessible. Usually, though, I think we have ways of tricking ourselves into figuring out what we need to learn. You're the expert here, and you will find your way. You're very skillful at it.