Thursday, November 15, 2007

Best Date

He can be a bit hard to catch up to. His work swallows him whole for days at a time. His family is a priority. After everyone has a piece of him, it seems as though there is often little left.

The phone rang on Monday morning, as I lay on my stomach in a really warm bubble bath. A luxury at 10:30 in the morning. I scrambled, wet and bubbly, but missed the last ring. I noticed that it was his number, and checked the message. "Just thought I'd see if you were still home," he said. "I was wondering if you'd like to come for cocoa and croissants. Call me when you get this." It was short and sweet. My favourite; a spontaneous fun offer. Cocoa. Croissants. And some time. Together.

I called back and told him I'd be over shortly.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Remembering Futures

A home. A family. And babies.

Three things I'd rather keep my head in the sand about. Not for any other reason but that it hurts too much to want them as I do.

Tonight I went to a friend's home for dinner. Warm, delicious homemade stew. After dinner we began stitching up some scraps of felted sweaters. Making stuffed animals.

I liked doing it.

I really had fun.

When I got in the car to head home, I realized that I had made the second item for a dowry. It is not a traditional dowry to be used to bribe or lure a spouse. Its one for the baby I dream of. The one whose smile I can imagine when I see my friend's child smiling. The one whose laughter I can feel in my heart and hear in my most sacred of dreams.

Copy Cat

I couldn't handle it. Gilly saw this poem, memorized it or wrote it down some long time ago. "Something I read on the bus - isn't it great", she'd said.
She put it in her blog.
I envied that I was not the one to have seen it.
Not the one to have written it down.
Not the one to have written it at all; at first.
But most of all, not the one for whom it was written.

And here it is again... 'cos sometimes I'm a brazen copy-cat!

Promises Promises

I will ride my red motorcycle
into your heart
crash land my feelings
all over your doorstep
fling scented pink petals
across your lawn
kiss you like pancakes for breakfast

by Heidi Greco