something old something new
And I didn't have the internet. And it was generally accepted that certain proceedings meant vanishing on people. Like my parents immigrating pretty much resulted in my being dead to my friends- it was sad but not bitter. It was the way of things. It was death. You cry a lot but you don't hold it against the corpse. And even later when it wasn't the way of things, it became my way of things. I've had very short relationships. There are a few decade long ones peppered here and there but to me those were the exceptions to the rule. My rule. It wasn't the way of things. I wasn't a corpse. I had a facebook profile and a blog (or two or three) and when we finally settled in Egypt and I didn't move for a very long time-- I had mutual acquaintances, I had venues where I knew I'd definitely bump into him or her, I had memories in corporeal form-- the smell of downtown, the book he wrote, the taste of the salad she'd make me And that's still new to me To know a starkly different personal history of the same space in this same body. I haven't gotten taller. Sure my hair's different and my face doesn't work the same way-- it's not growing breasts and it's not losing my virginity. Variation isn't change. And I've had change forced on me for so long. I don't want it-- not now. It's good to know how someone used to be. It's good to forget how much something hurt and to remember how beautiful something felt. It's good to be asked if it's water under the bridge. It's good to watch babies grow. I remember trying to hold on to moments of stillness and clarity in the middle of my breakdown in college and I never could and I probably wasn't meant to-- Before I take on another adventure--and I will, eventually Let me enjoy this |