Do you know where my TV remote is? Me neither. At least Picasso I lost that and not the dvd remote.
You know those commercials where people are walking around headless but with balloons attached to a string that they’re walking around holding? I rather feel that way.
Close your eyes and open them and you go holy moly, where did the day go? Your mind rubs over the well-worn paths of now-familiar thoughts, and concurrently you scour the whole town with your gramma looking for a brown sweater, and it only occurs to you that night that you could have thought about buying brown yarn to make a sweater with, well, if you were gonna. (Knit Picks Andean Silk in chocolate?) Then your next thought is, sheesh, if they dissect your brain, your thoughts would essentially be 50% fur and well, 50% fur.
I miss her. Of course I do. I always will, and the love of having just has to learn how to become the love of wanting. Somehow.
An unrequited love.
Soon the unfamiliar will be familiar.
But soon is not right now.
All those emails, all those comments, thank you for enveloping me in them. Thank you for touching me with your words, though I haven’t yet been able to reply. Tomorrow I’ll work on that. Because people like Peeve are way too wonderful for words. The first blog I read tonight and it was hers, and I’m glad, because it’s good to be moved deeply by a BBFF.
It’s good to feel loved.
