so it shines when you finally come home

There are times I still think of Noah; I wonder why that should be, and I wonder if it happens more in October than it does other times of the year.  I cannot remember what months we spent together and what months we spent apart.  But I remember sunshine, and I remember cool nights.  And I remember a mark on my wrist that he made when he tried to catch my arm while I was slipping.  (I liked that mark.)  Perhaps it was October, but I think not.  I think it was probably early in September, because that was when I lived on the prairies and winter came far earlier.

Something yesterday reminded me of Noah's eyes, how dark and haunted they appeared, although he was not an unhappy person, not that I could tell.  There is something about that look, those eyes that have hollows beneath - and a darkness that seems to say a person has not slept well in a long time -there is something about that look that draws me, and I do not know why.  Many of the men I have been most attracted to have shared that look.  (Perhaps they shared that look as I exhausted them and wore them out?)  It is possible that my husband's eyes look that way.

J is going through her first break up, and perhaps this is why I thought of Noah, when she said she could not understand how someone she had not known three months ago could suddenly have so much control of her emotions.  Undoubtedly I said this about Noah too.  I was angry with him because I did not want him particularly.  He was only an interesting actor in a play until he approached me, unbidden, and made promises I never asked for.

A sensible person, of course, remains on their feet, but I am not, nor ever have been, a sensible person.  I am easily shaken and Noah shook me hard.  He said we had obviously known each other in many lifetimes, and fucked it up repeatedly, but this was clearly meant to be the lifetime in which we would finally get it right.  I pushed him away and laughed at him for being outrageous and brazen, but I wanted this to be true.  For some reason it was easy to see the pictures he described.

I have not spoken to him for more than fifteen years.  This is not a story that matters, except that it is part of my history and tells me a small thing about myself that is unreasonable and has not changed.  I almost always fall for poetry and nonsense, and I do not really aim to change this aspect.

As J's heart heals I hope she will remain open to these headlong plunges into groundless promises, because they remain some of the tenderest and most treasured memories when one has grown up and stopped taking such risks.

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i hate when things are over

Today B sent me a message to thank me for remembering his birthday.  (I didn't.  Facebook told me.)  And he said he remembered the first time we met, how I seemed shy and uncertain of myself.  I decided to be honest with him and tell him the truth, that he reminded me very much of someone else I felt strongly about, and it rattled me.  I think I opened a door I ought not to have opened because his response was too warm, too much an invitation.  But not really.  The kind of warm invitation that feels good because it is sincere and a compliment and it is honest.  We could have.  We might have.  We would have if.  These are nice things to say.  These are nice things to be told.  Except that we work together and maybe that's not really a great idea to share those kinds of thoughts with people with whom you are supposed to be professional.

Oh well.

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now your eyes see through me

I have been selected by my union to become a mediator for staff who are having disputes.  This is an interesting turn of events, as I tried to get this job about three years ago and was turned away because I didn't belong to enough committees (read any committees).  I still don't belong to any committees; the only difference this time is that I have become friends with one of the women on the executive committee who probably sold me during the vote.  I wonder about the ethics of this sort of thing.

The upshot is that I get two free university courses on conflict resolution and mediation, which is a prize that I consider a real prize because I love going to school, especially when I'm getting paid to do it, and especially when that's happening during work hours.  Mediating disputes between colleagues has potential to be very interesting too.

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lavender blue

Shawn received an outrageous job offer in Sweden.  I asked him to take the phone call and get some information.  If it sounds too good to be true, I still want to hear about it.

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This morning K brought baking to our meeting.  At the end of the meeting I saw M steal two muffins to bring home to her children.  I wonder what that is, the stealing.  I mean I wonder why she does that.  She has money, she has enough to buy her children muffins.  But she does this always, pilfers treats from staff meetings to bring home to her kids.  I cannot understand the imaginary warmth of false generosity that comes from giving a gift that never belonged to you in the first place.  It must taste like saccharine dust in her children's mouths.  

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End

The fast ended uneventfully.  The easing back in wasn't really necessary, it turns out.  I could eat just fine, but once I was eating I no longer felt like ordering a pizza.  Apparently my increased interest in food had everything to do with not having any, which is a fine metaphor applicable to many aspects of life.

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October seems to have caught me by the throat this morning the way October does, even when it is clear and sunny and pretends to be summer.  It is not summer.  October is a difficult season for me year after year in the most unexpected ways.

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M returns to work tomorrow after a month of sick leave.  Her return may make the rest of us ill.  I am resolving not to help her or enable her, and I am also resolving not to kick her off any ledges on purpose. Neither promise is easy to keep because she is slithery.  You never know which of your pockets she is reaching for.

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