Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Fierce winds blew through here overnight, blast after thunderous blast, loud - no, louder - than freight trains that rumbled past the house I grew up in, across the street, the back of those neighbors' yards. As though the train were right here - that's what it must have been like to live hard by the tracks, even more so than we already did. I woke in the middle of the night with a headache and slight fever, got up to check for kisses from you (18 of them at one instant!) and to take an aspirin. I've been lying low all day, fighting a bug - weakness, aches & pains. Nothing major, just a nuisance, but I wasn't up for much of anything, not a walk or workout, uncharacteristically. I hope I feel much better tomorrow - I'd hate to gain an ounce, let alone more, because I was sedentary for a day.

As I lay in the dark room, thrashing my covers, one instant too hot, moments later too cold -- was this a hot flash I wondered? But I don't think so - it's a bug, one that D told me this morning he'd weathered last week. I lay awake hearing the winds hurtle past again & again, and wondered how animals perceive it, if securely lodged nests get blown away, if creatures become frightened, not to mention cold. The cashmere strips blew off the tree. But the house didn't seem to so much as tremble, secure as it is, I guess, on its foundation. So that's reassuring.

Oh sweetheart, so little to report today at all, I'll just take your hand in mine, keep you company for a bit, stroke your fingers, lift your hand to my lips, kiss your palm. I'd love to see places with you. As I lay awake I imagined, ah what if were lying together, and perhaps luxuriously planning our day? Let's go to the museum and take a look at the La Bonne Aventure Magritte we both like. It would be a wonder to see it in person, with you. Or to just go anywhere with you -- sort of like Brangelina, for a bit -- the two of them, plus brood in tow, so peripatetic. I think that I wouldn't be quite the homebody if other emotional satisfactions were in place. I feel as though I'd happily travel anywhere with you, and feel right at home. But perhaps you prefer to be by yourself on your sojourns away - I wonder.

The sun has set and I've just gotten up to switch on a couple of lamps. I glance out the window. The ridgeline - miles away on the other side of the river, but seemingly right here as if for my gaze - is gorgeous, an unbroken line, glimpsed through bare black trees, blue granite curves dark beneath apricot sky. Breathtaking.

So no poetry really tonight, dearest, I'm not up for it. Room service. Where are we? Oh - a resort in Cambodia? That sounds wonderful. They must have the most amazing spritely fresh spring rolls... Ah let's step out onto the terrace of the jungly grotto outside our room and peruse the menu... you phone in the order darling to the concierge.... it will take them at least 40 minutes I know... time enough, as the sun slips behind the tangled vegetation and chirping mysterious woods of our cabana, for us to become re-acquainted, since we haven't seen each other since that museum with the Magritte in Rotterdam...

all my love dearest wherever you are
many kisses

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