Love of Our Lives

I felt tired most of the afternoon, a feeling of heaviness, head and body. I took two walks with weights this morning - I think I overdid it. The sun's been on and off all day. I feel between things. The one I called isn't coming. So why continue to think of him? Well (as though, at the moment anyway, I can control it), if I don't other parts of me shut down.

It's okay. He was never coming. It's my frame of mind that's changed. I can still think of him. He helped.

I love very much. (I love him very much.) I am bursting with love. But my love needs an object. I need someone to love. A man. A man who loves me too.

Is a mind with biology too much to ask?

Maybe down the line the answer is in the line of a song on KZE this morning (don't know which). Maybe I need a brand new friend.

***
Indigo sun also rises. Interesting way to land on my blog. I wouldn't have thought of it. Lost generation. I feel myself to have been lost. I'm returning to the indigo concept again. I relate to it. I thought about it a few years ago and ultimately dismissed it.

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Email from Belle to Amelia, 13 January 2006

... Boy, I feel like a fever broke with this Indigo thing. The idea seized me, but I've talked myself off the Indigo ledge now (sorry for the mixed metaphor). Gawd. That was close. We're all Indigo like we're all Human. Duh. Still, I'm glad I thought about it so intensely. It did help to clarify my thinking. And for some reason I'm getting the "narrative" concept better now, as it applies to one's own life...

***
Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of moving from Brooklyn upstate to this house, a subject I hardly even want to think about, so much has not gone the way either D or I would have wished or predicted.

But I took a stroll around the garden this afternoon. Trees, shrubs, bulbs, and perennials we planted are coming to life. So much to notice in the tiny buds of the maples, ash, hawthorne, willow, and even the river birches - hardly more than twigs stuck in the ground - that are gamely leafing out. Thumbelina, a Colorado spruce, is for the first time taller than me, a milestone. A viburnum transplanted to a sunnier spot last fall and that last week I thought was dead (brittle bud tips crumbled in my fingers) today has soft leafy sprouts, tender to the touch. In the front yard, my feet planted on the greening lawn, I looked up through branches of a young red maple, taller than me, budding out against clouds and sky.