I thought I had forgotten the knack of connecting to people, and you know, maybe I have. The other night wasn't so much a connection, a spiritual link, anything like that. It was just a couple of people taking ...comfort? ...joy? maybe it was just a couple of people doing people stuff for which there are no fantastically wonderful words. Just hanging around, you know?
I feel like that with Tillie sometimes here, but we're usually both doing other stuff so it isn't extended into a whole afternoon. It's like that with Ellen sometimes, but it's the same. The pressure of things I could do with the Juggler and the heavy weight of our expectations and history always spills into it. When Miravaz and I take pictures, he has to go to work afterwards. I have the feeling that balancing rocks with silverseastar would have a bit of that feeling where I can just relax into the universe and let it carry me along, but I also found it in Grandview Park (I think that's the one, on commercial drive) with someone my age who shares the same first name as the Juggler and has a backstory that at first glance sounds wildly different from mine, but only from inside mine.
I am not in love; this is a good thing. Love in the conventional sense would be a mistake. Instead I feel the possibility for a friendship here, and I'm very glad. I know I've lost, at least temporarily, the knack of falling in love. I'm not trusting enough for it. I thought I might have lost my ability to care deeply for strangers, though, and that's valuable to me.
And do you know, it feels so good to spend time talking to someone who.. hm. What is the difference? I was going to say, someone who's looking outwards away from their problems, but that's not accurate. This one's just as caught up in his own stuff as everyone. Maybe it's just a fresh set of them that's refreshing? Or maybe it's the way that we didn't come to each other for help with problems, but just discussed them as things that exist somewhere, maybe in some connection with us. This isn't to say listening to friends' troubles is bad or onerous in the least, but it is something new abd different and other.
I move on Thursday, and the roommate has moved in here already. The livingroom is very full of stuff. I've no idea how or where it will all go eventually, but I plan on visiting Tillie enough to see (no one I met last night knows of Tillie. The universe falters on its foundations).
Today is a lot of potential: laundry with mom in the morning, and I love talking with her; playing in the garden with the Juggler in the afternoon, oh, Gods, I miss the garden (and did you know the beech tree in the park on Commercial has a terribly bad case of aphids, but that's fall for you); tonight mom might take the boat out, and there's betta club meeting, how do you decide between those? It's a terrible decision. :)
And more than anything I hugged Tillie the other day, and I hugged Juggler2 (he can't juggle seven balls, and the name is odd, but the name similarity is important to carry over for a little bit), and I lay in the sunshine until the shadows curled around and made me shiver, and I went to the Trout Lake farmer's market and saw all the squash there for sale (squash is such a shockingly pregnant, fertile fruit) and I technically woke up beside the Juggler, and my rats love me. Those are the important things, and I didn't cry once.
Mind, I don't always cry, everyday. It just seems significant somehow about yesterday.
And soon I'll be at Troy and Nina's, because that's where I'm going to live, and I'll buy daffodills from the farmer's market for variety and cheap in fifty bulb bags and plant them everywhere with crocus so that in ten years someone wil come to that house and be surprised in the spring.
I live so much in my future and so little in my past. When I'm with a person, part of the enjoyment is feeling ripples of echoes from the future, times when the thing I'm doing with them right then will be repeated or mused over together. That's why the time thing, Juggler, if you read this.
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