may, 2012

Thu, 17 May 2012 18:59:02 -0700

I dropped Lion-O off at SFO this morning -- not caring much, because the relationship is still new, about the punishingly pre-morning hour or the chilly crepuscular fog, which, even in May, foreshadows a San Francisco July of muted fireworks and sweaters. Draped his carry-ons over his crutches (swing-sets apparently being more dangerous at age 24 than they were at 5) and kissed him goodbye for a week-plus.

Monday evening, making miniature pies in white ramekins, he sitting near the kitchen with his bad ankle propped up on on ottoman, I paused while cutting strawberries with a confession. And I've been waiting ever since.

I'm strangely fine with this. Waiting like this ten years ago (for his return, for his reciprocation) would have ruined me. Instead, after parking the Zipcar at 7:30am this morning, I made myself breakfast, read the newspaper on the shuttle, worked a commendable day, and am now on my way home to pick up my vegetables and make marmalade. As if over the last decade some senescent lithium has slowly moved in, evened out the highs and the lows, and left me merely hopeful, optimistic, and calm enough to attempt jam.

It occurs to me to worry that that this product of maturity, of domestic preserves and head-on-straight days of work, is somehow so distinct at least from myself at 24 as to suggest an inherent difference of age, something systemic. I try to dismiss these thoughts; all I can do for now is wait -- without bated breath, without counting the days.

Time alone will tell (he returns from Nashville next Sunday). And my marmalade is improving with practice.

all this Šnori heikkinen, May 2012

<-- April || today || June -->

back to front