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February 15, 2004

I am sitting in Bryon’s ugly green chair right now, watching two sparrows build a nest under the roof of the house next door. I first noticed them a couple of mornings ago, chirruping away in the sunshine. Their sounds are different lately, shriller, more gleeful; it’s February, barely 17 degrees out, and springtime is in the works.

» Philadelphia

February break is this week, and I have no obligations to anything for five days. Tomorrow we are going to run away from home. All I want is a Philly cheesesteak and a view of someplace different. In my version, we pack some extra underwear and a toothbrush, hop in the car and see where the road goes. In his version, we mapquest everything ahead of time, make reservations, and figure out when the museum will be open. Logically, his system makes better sense- that is, if you are determined to reach a certain destination and have a particular, specific sort of adventure, and not end up disappointed, or sleeping in the back seat of the car. But I like my way better, because you always end up just where you ought to be. The journey, and not the destination. It’s a matter of perception. Despite this conflict, I think we make excellent travelling companions.

A year ago, to this hour, minute, and day, I changed my life. We had been together for seven years, through thick and thin, best friends and terrible mortal enemies. We grew up with one another. We were going to get old together. But when I woke up this similar morning, a year ago, I decided I wanted it to be different. And oh, how different this time has been.

And then there was everything in between- Jared, and reading quantum theory, and wanting someone far away, and feeling wanderlust, the jeep I never bought, and learning to draw again, the new teaching job, my grandfather dying, and finding Bryon right under my nose, and going to New Mexico at last, finding a love for a place, greater than any love for any person, and all the hullabaloo with my maddeningly disloyal incestuous friends, the specific pain of having to choose between them, and the choice i made with all my heart..

So now I’m here, and sure, and steadfast, and decided.

I miss him alot today, but I wouldn’t change a thing. You cannot go backwards, y’ know?

Last night we went to the monkeyhouse to see Amelia dance. Amelia is amazing. She makes me nuts sometimes, but I have to say that most of my crazy bostonian escapades involved her in some way, sleeping on my couch or reading cosmo aloud in a dramatic voice, her wierd obscure dictionaries, her crazy clothes. Credit where it’s due, oh, crazy girl.