Archives for the month of: August, 2008


I wrote these notes two and a half years ago. They still apply.


it was your nostrils, my dear

it did make me laugh, though

It is not about what I think the right thing to do is…
It is not about how I want you to see me…
It is not about the way I want your memories of me to look like…
It is not about whether I am afraid or foolish or close to moving backwards…

What it all comes down to, what the only question I can ask myself in order to know what to do is, Who do I want to be in this experience?

Am I the person who silently lets you make your way on your own?
Am I the person who asks the questions because they can no longer stay still on my tongue?
Am I the person who dares to say the things I feel, the things I think you are feeling too?
Am I the person who finds yet one more clever way to convince you of my love and worth — and hopes it will be enough?

I suppose I am all of these. I am so curious if you can feel what I can feel; I want to know if something wild and known comes alive in you when I am near as it does in me. I want to know how the world keeps us moving in each other’s circles and how you feel when you think about this. I want to spend an entire night asking you all of these questions and trying to find out why. I want to tell you my stories and fill you in on all you’ve missed. I still want to tell you how I knew you long before we ever met and why I kept telling you you felt like home to me. I want to read you all the letters I wrote you, tell you all the dreams I dreamt of you lying right beside me, as you did not so long ago. I want a stranger to whisper in your ear, ‘do something brave today.’ I want you to find the courage to say the things you haven’t said. I want you to say them because I cannot take back all the things I never got to say to the ones I have loved. I am right here. And my heart is open. And I don’t want you to struggle like I did; I want you to set yourself free.

And if you can’t do that, I want you to let me go.

at the park

Do something remarkable with your life, sweet child.

I’m rooting for you.