I left my heart in California,
Lost in the summer heat.
Halfway between here and there
Our initials are carved on a tree.
Just another memory for the shelf…
try and forget…
that we were once what we both needed.
My pup will be 8 this next June. I can’t believe that it’s been that long…it seems like only yesterday that I was pacing the floor in anticipation for her to arrive. I remember my eyes immediately filling with tears as I watched my coworker pull up into the driveway and get out with this tiny, brown haired ball of fur. He handed her to me and I snuggled her small body as she tucked her tiny face into my neck. With tears rolling down my cheeks, I whispered to her that she was going to be my most favorite adventure.
I’m telling you this story because she’s getting older. She’s not moving as fast as her spunky younger self. She was a bullet and I was not the only one to notice over the years. I’m telling you this because there will come a day when I won’t feel the pressure of her nose on my shoulder, demanding that I pull the blankets up so she can burrow her little body next to mine. There will be a day when she doesn’t greet me at the door with her favorite stuffed bone. She grabs it every time someone she loves walks through the door. It’s a tell that she loves you if she wants to share her bone with you.
But!! My very favorite part over the years is her nightly routine when entering my room. She makes her dramatic entrance by nosing her way in through my creaking door. (There’s no need. The door is open wide enough for her to get by, but she does like to make an entrance). Her little footsteps as she rounds my bed and her giant leap onto my bed. She walks to the wall and positions her body against the wall and myself. She noses my shoulder for me to lift up the blanket so she can crawl in to circle for the perfect spot. If she can’t find it, she will get out of the blankets and the whole thing starts over. The leap, the nose nudging, and the circling. Eventually, she throws her body against my side and onto the mattress where she is now permanently glued. Zeus himself could not move my dog from her new residence.
Good luck finding any leg room now, I think to myself. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
There’s that song again. The one I always skip when it comes on. You think you know the song, but it’s not the one you’re thinking of. It’s “Music for Love” you remember that one? Mario sings it. Yeah, I don’t listen to it. The beginning flashes me to an appropriately locked memory. It was one seemingly insignificant moment when pooled with the rest of the time. I was straightening my hair when the song came on and that’s when I heard you. You began to sing and if I remember correctly, it was such a struggle to get you to sing for me.
I moved to the bed and sat down. Just to listen. You couldn’t see me, the wall of the hotel separated us, but I could hear you. You. For the moment. My very own earth angel.
She sat in her seat at her regular bar. It was a long week and she needed a drink. Her weary eyes watch as the night unfolds, and she sips her whisky; it tasted like loneliness. A tailored suit walked up to the bar. He flashed her an expensive smile and slid onto the stool next to hers. She leaned over and hated herself for smiling beneath drunk eyes. He cocked an eyebrow and smirked. She pictured herself getting up and leaving, but who was she kidding. She nods toward the bartender in that, I’ll-pay-my-tab-tomorrow, type of way, and finished her beer.
She wrote her address on a napkin, slid it down the bar and walked away. Another night of meaningless sex had her eyes filling with tears. She blinked hard as she convinced herself that this will fill the emptiness in her soul. Deep down, she knows she’s wrong.
Still half asleep and hazy eyed from the night before, she rolled over trying to talk her hangover down. Her nose nearly hit a face she barely recognized and a name that probably rhymed with regret, which she began to feel as she flashed back to the hours prior…”pushing the napkin with her address on it across the bar and walking out.”
“Well, fuck,” she mumbled. When did one night stands become sleepovers.
She rolled back over and let her feet dangle off the bed. Dizzy, she took her time standing up and felt the crunch of a wrapper under her foot. Safe sex. “High five to you drunk self,” she thought sarcastically.
nightmares. they twist and tear around me like a tornado. picking up speed as i lose sleep. fighting against my fear. there can be only one winner and tonight; that’s not me. my defenses lose their muster and the past creeps slyly passed my guard. there’s nothing i can do now. they have me in their grasp. i should feel more at home with fear and anxiety. i know their faces well…for they have been my most constant companions.
He stopped to stare at the waves. “It’s mesmerizing,” he says. She reaches up and turns his face toward hers and smiled…and he forgot all about the ocean.
I don’t think you need to be in love to write.
But you had to have been once.
I hesitate to call myself a writer. More one with rambling thoughts and run on sentences, who wishes to be a writer. I take my emotions and find words for them in the most honest way that I can. So, if I have loved someone in any way you can be sure they will spill out onto these pages.
Isn’t that what writing is? Feelings made into words.
If a poet falls in love with you,
you will live forever.
*Music Mood: 11 Blocks-Warbel
“I like reading your blog” she said
“You do? What do you like about it?”
“Knowing what you think. I was always in love with your thoughts.”
I miss you in the stillness; when it’s quiet. That’s when memories of you interrupt my rambling mind. For a moment, I allow myself to remember you, but only a moment. Any longer causes my heart to crack in places that took too long to heal. I start to remember how it felt for my soul to be known or how easily your hand found mine.