Wednesday, November 20, 2013

A Little Window is Large Enough



I keep finding myself a little lost in patches, hazy blue down at my hem.

Survival mode has its merits. There's value in just doing a hard thing, in putting one foot in front of the other, in recalibrating one's personal universe in such a way that a new rhythm is inadvertently plunked out - the melody in a minor key.

But living this way can also fray the soul if you're not careful. A wide-stretched life can gut you in the middle.

And before you know it, you can't stop saying how tired you are.
And before you know it, you're always chasing, never steady, lamenting the day when you should be clinking salsa bowls.
And before you know it, you're passing the baton and it's all relay. The teamwork spins in two separate orbits, not because you have any hope of winning but simply so you'll keep on breathing.

But some days, those orbits collide. They fuse. You find yourself there with your elusive fixer, that guy who picks up all your slack while you pick up his. You get just enough time - just enough to breathe in then out, and it's not perfect, but that illusion is long gone and no one misses it.

I'm going to go out on a limb - my marriage could not survive our life without moments like these. Call me weak, I don't mind. Am I spoiled? Maybe.
But I need time alone with Cory. It's one of the things I miss most about the good ol' days. We have to hunt it down now and hook it through the nose. It's complicated and far too sporadic, but so worth it when it happens. It just makes everything better.

{My official favorite fashionABLE  scarf, the Genet. Extra weighty for winter and makes every single outfit look cooler.}

Here's what we did on our fortuitous 4-hour day-date:
Coffee (him)/Earl Grey and pumpkin muffin (me) at The Brew
Church sale
Goodwill
Consignment store
Fancy lunch
Antiques store
Book store

(We fit as much food in as possible. It's our "thing".)

This photo brought to you by: I Can't Be Trusted At a Church Sale (& Ruby)
$3/bag, baby! You'd better believe I crammed all this into one, fine bag.

I wisely deduced that we could spring for "fancy" since it was lunch. Then we sat down, they poured our water, and regret started its low boil. $14 for a sandwich? That ship has sailed, my friends.

I was at risk of ruining the moment with my weirdness. I kept thinking, "I would be happy with 2 Doritos Locos tacos", but then Cory sprang for a cup of chowder along with his 14-karat chicken sandwich and the spell was fully cast. It was too late for second-guessing.

I enjoyed my overpriced salad so much. Those capers made my mouth pucker in the best way possible.

And then.

And then.

For the first time in my life, the waitress sashayed over and said, just above a whisper, "Your check has been taken care of." She left a plate of chocolate chip cookies and waltzed away. Cory didn't want his, so I ate both. See? The story keeps getting better.

Woven through those 240 minutes, I found room enough to dream a little. I decided it's not too frivolous. It's necessary, at least to me. It's how I connect my head with my heart.

I just think, God? You sure are rad.
You invented all the ways of giving me what I need. And though it sometimes seems like your clock is overdue for a tune-up, I'm the one getting rusty on the inside.



Our date was 5 days ago. Am I still floating on one of its sparkly sunbeams?
Not even close.

But I was reminded of a few important things.
I did my hair first thing in the morning on a weekday.
I wore many layers and foolishly mixed my patterns.
I read Cory's mind from across a crowded room without the hum of interruption.

The day was all orange, persimmon-smooth and warm as a fire dance.

It was the opposite of blue.