Love’s Sandwich
I’m curled up on a real bearskin rug.
Remember me telling you about my friend Maggie, who moved to Colorado with the old hippie who had the Kinkajou? I am at her house just outside of Santa Fe where they moved a few years ago.
We’ve had the best time today. She took me to this gorgeous place that she knew I would want to paint. We sat in the car as I sketched for it was too cold outside. We were drinking wine and smoked a little as we talked about old times and laughed and laughed. I don’t remember the last time I laughed so much. It would have to be when I was with you.
It was dark when we got back and she was a little tipsy so she went to bed. I decided to curl up in front of this wonderful fire blazing in this huge stone fireplace in their den.
Staring into the flames as they danced made me think of you and the campfires we shared over the years in so many places. Those thoughts, as much as this crackling fire, brought such warmth.
For years I thought love only brought pain but those good years with you taught a different lesson. Here comes that word again. Joy. Your word. Love can fill you with joy just as being without it can bring such emptiness. I so miss that feeling of love you had for me.
If love ever finds me again, I hope it brings a sandwich. Then, maybe, just maybe, when it goes away, I won’t be so empty inside.
2 Comments
Marty Rice
Such a touching line about love bringing a sandwich. I find these notes hard to read for they seem to all just echo sadness with little depth of story. But I do enjoy many of the lines and most of the thoughts implied by the individual notes.
I know you said in the beginning, this was the first stage and that later you would fill it all in with the rest of the story. I may have to wait and come back for all the sadness without more context is hard to read.
That is not really a criticism but rather an observation. I, too, write. I know we have to find our own voice and our own path to share it.
I hope your writing and your ventures into past days bring you peace for there is no doubt of the pain you still feel. You would not be able to so publically reveal these notes unless it was not a search for resolution, a search for peace. I hope you find your peace.
Michael
Thank you for your comments, Marty.
Most of my thoughts of Jane are filled with the times we shared blessed with laughter, with her sultry smile, the way she teased me and kept things light. In those thoughts, I see her in the bright sunshine where we spent so much of our time enjoying nature and each other. Those are blessed times and their memories are joyous. The notes come from a different time and a different frame of mind.
Without a doubt, the rest of the story is coming. I have so many little tales of our adventures that I must weave in between the notes. Some are written; some are still a series of memories but all will find there way here.
The process has been slower than I first anticipated. The creative process is fickle. I normally write with ease, but with some stories I must have an ear. I tell the story to that ear; to that person. In this case, I was inspired to tell the story after sharing a few of the notes, with a good friend who was very encouraging about it. For reasons that do not matter here, the desire to tell the story to that ear, that person, faded away. It may sound silly, but that really got in the way of telling this story. I have not been able to get back to it for over six months.
Ah, but some stories will not just lay there in fallow fields. this one keeps calling me. This one will not be denied and the new words are coming for sure.