Monday, April 18, 2005
Rara Reene Rosie
Yesterday Sara-Jeanne showed up at my door.
Strangest part was that i had been thinking about her big time all day as i started in on decorating the patio. It was her chimes that tinkled in the cool wind, her cat hair still stuck stubbornly to the sliding door, her memory that happily chatted away with me about accent colors. I missed her acutley that afternoon. I have gotten used to an SJ-less world, but there are still so many times in a day that i have something to share with her or say to her that no one else would possibly understand.
Read a quote that says home isn't a place where people know you, it is a place where people understand you...
So, there we were, Jo and i, cooking supper, the candles alight throughout the apartment, the ultimate picture of domestic bliss, when there is a knock on my door. Living in an apartment building where my buzzer is broken keeps unexpected knocks at a minimum. Part of me knew, i think, who it was. Opening the door i was confronted with my former best friend. She looked the same, all dark hair and red lips, holding a Starbucks coffee in her hand, her eyebrows raised high, waiting. And what did i do? What could i do? I threw myself into her arms. I mean, no matter what, at the end of the day, i love her. I love her with the fierceness that i love the men of my past. Just like them, this woman knows parts of me that currently no one does...
But my protective warrior voice warned me. Love her, Krista, sure. But do not think this means she wants you back. Do not mistake merely wanting to break a grudge with a rekindled relationship. Breathe. Be in the moment. Enjoy the 3 minutes you will have with her standing in the foyer. Do not drown this in fantasies or expectations. Beware your foolish heart.
Truth is, i miss her. I miss us. I live in a much quieter world since she departed. I appreciate this CBC Classical Music aspect to my present life, but god what i would do for a hit of the loud, brassy, hoppin' music we made together. It is reminiscent of the way i miss Aidan's toothpaste smile and animated stories, Kirk's Australlian accent while giving a steady traffic commentary or Dean's rendition of Lady dressed in nothing more than one of my floral skirts and a necktie. There have been great loves of my life, and they haven't all been men. Carrie Chan, Patrick Simmons, Melanie Phillipson, Dean Balkwill, Jennie Grado, Kirklind Nylen, Sara-Jeanne Hosie, Aidan Simpson...my Mom, Leanne....and now, Jordan Hart Good Lewin. The Ones.
The night is full of ghosts.
I miss you all. I let you go because i have had to, but...
Each of you carries with you a piece of me that is yours and yours alone.
May you, each in your own turn, knock once again on my door.
And may i be home and answer.
May i always answer.
Strangest part was that i had been thinking about her big time all day as i started in on decorating the patio. It was her chimes that tinkled in the cool wind, her cat hair still stuck stubbornly to the sliding door, her memory that happily chatted away with me about accent colors. I missed her acutley that afternoon. I have gotten used to an SJ-less world, but there are still so many times in a day that i have something to share with her or say to her that no one else would possibly understand.
Read a quote that says home isn't a place where people know you, it is a place where people understand you...
So, there we were, Jo and i, cooking supper, the candles alight throughout the apartment, the ultimate picture of domestic bliss, when there is a knock on my door. Living in an apartment building where my buzzer is broken keeps unexpected knocks at a minimum. Part of me knew, i think, who it was. Opening the door i was confronted with my former best friend. She looked the same, all dark hair and red lips, holding a Starbucks coffee in her hand, her eyebrows raised high, waiting. And what did i do? What could i do? I threw myself into her arms. I mean, no matter what, at the end of the day, i love her. I love her with the fierceness that i love the men of my past. Just like them, this woman knows parts of me that currently no one does...
But my protective warrior voice warned me. Love her, Krista, sure. But do not think this means she wants you back. Do not mistake merely wanting to break a grudge with a rekindled relationship. Breathe. Be in the moment. Enjoy the 3 minutes you will have with her standing in the foyer. Do not drown this in fantasies or expectations. Beware your foolish heart.
Truth is, i miss her. I miss us. I live in a much quieter world since she departed. I appreciate this CBC Classical Music aspect to my present life, but god what i would do for a hit of the loud, brassy, hoppin' music we made together. It is reminiscent of the way i miss Aidan's toothpaste smile and animated stories, Kirk's Australlian accent while giving a steady traffic commentary or Dean's rendition of Lady dressed in nothing more than one of my floral skirts and a necktie. There have been great loves of my life, and they haven't all been men. Carrie Chan, Patrick Simmons, Melanie Phillipson, Dean Balkwill, Jennie Grado, Kirklind Nylen, Sara-Jeanne Hosie, Aidan Simpson...my Mom, Leanne....and now, Jordan Hart Good Lewin. The Ones.
The night is full of ghosts.
I miss you all. I let you go because i have had to, but...
Each of you carries with you a piece of me that is yours and yours alone.
May you, each in your own turn, knock once again on my door.
And may i be home and answer.
May i always answer.
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