January 14, 2003
Shining like Stars
Tonight I am all caught up in gossamer dreams. Tonight I am thinking of a very uneventful day that does not deserve the feelings it is relishing this night.
Sadness and chaos this morning lapsed with the brief kiss in his truck in the parking lot on Hamilton campus, all washed away by the little sound of contentment when my face was still close enough to make his all blurry.
I am drinking a weak cup of Earl Grey and wondering when the quill escaped my hand, when stream of consciousness became a rushing river of honesty. There is something missing in my life, but I am afraid it is something I have chosen to ignore as opposed to a true and obvious abscence.
I am reading Sir Gawain and the Green Knight for English class and it has spawned my new favorite quote, replacing Margaret Cavendish at least temporarily:
"In destinies sad or merry, true men can but try."
Am I a true woman? If so, to what am I true? I am loyal to my words. I will stand by them, I have created them so that I might have something next to which I can stand. I am loyal to my family, not as it suits me but as it suits who they really are, and who I have percieved them to be.
I am loyal to the man who has not saved me but talks about doing so, I am afraid that I am more loyal to him, sometimes, than I am to myself.
That scares me.
Today is Tuesday, the Tuesday, the fourth Tuesday of the month. I should know better than to wake up and expect my relief to be smeared everywhere, I should know better and wait a few hours, wait for one o'clock or two, and the slight passage of my blessedly empty womb.
I don't know better, and this morning was no different.
I sat on his couch drinking a strong cup of coffee and watching the snow fall outside. I cried as he slept fifteen, twenty, thirty more minutes, I cried as he got up to shower, as I heard him shave and brush his teeth, I cried when he thanked me for the coffee and joined me, I cried when he touched me.
And I thought about it. I thought, no Europe. I thought, I'll never be alone. I thought, we'll never be alone. I thought, no more school. I thought, nothing but shame.
I thought, I might have more time to write.
In the end, I think the only creations I ever want leaving my body are my books. I think that Mike and his beautiful dark eyes and lithe frame and sweet voice have cheated me, somehow, in that I have forgotten what it is to be cheated. I love him. That is the ultimate cheat.
You bargain yourself, you realize. A game wherein there is you, a lonely pawn, with a yawning chess board full of opposing pieces, the Queen just ahead, the stakes as steep as they may go, with your heart and your soul on the line, and your song playing in the background.
It is then, only then, that you realize you like the idea of no hope, and forfeit. And he welcomes you with open arms and you smile and enter and laugh at his jokes because they're actually funny. He'll cook you dinner and watch Lord of the Rings as many times as you like and kiss you goodnight and smile you goodmorning (he hasn't brushed his teeth yet) and drive you around and humour you.
He'll let you mess up his hair.
You'll think that he is the greatest thing that has ever happened and you'll hold him tight when you're in his bed and you'll cry out when it's real and be truly happy for all of his pursuits no matter how little they have to do with you. You'll think that you're perfect for eachother but you'll be careful never to say it, you'll think that maybe he is the one, that he is surely the one, when you don't even know what the one is and you certainly can't ask him.
I am so happy I feel like I could curl up and my body's warmth would move inward and make me a core of pure golden happiness, and I'd hand him a spoon and he'd take just a mouthful and proclaim it a little on the salty side.
I'd lick the taste off his lips, and soon after there'd be other business to attend to.
You'd think that happiness would be louder. I have had too much to say today, but I have not said it all, and what I have, I have whispered.
astera at 10:59 p.m.