Sometimes.

Sometimes, I can't say what it is, I feel as though everything is perfect. Even if something bad happened. Say, like what I posted last. About Yolanda. I yearn for her to be here, to hold Sophia, but I think she holds her closer now, and maybe that's the reason. Here, the oxygen tank would have been in the way. There, she can be as close to her soul as she wants.

Sometimes, again, I can't say what it is, but it all creeps up on me, and I can feel those fingers of desolution trying to touch me. How close I could come to that desolution. And I realize what is happening & try to snap out of it with a nice thought. Something to keep me going. Something to remind me that I have a home, I have love. I may not have everything I want, physically, but isn't a loving home so much more than those things could ever be?

Sometimes I think I've lost my sexiness. I've had a child & I've got weight to lose, and I look in the mirror and with unconcious thoughts convince myself that I'm NOT any of the things that I ever thought I was. Just this husk. To do the things necessary & nothing more. Then I turn around & I'm laying on the couch & he pulls me in & it starts, it stays & doesn't go away....the spark & motivation fill me again, to do my hair, to dress with flair, to be & stay turned on.

Forgive me...

I don't know if this is the right path to take. I don't know that I should romanticize the past. I wish I could take some time and sit down and really think and maybe right a short book. But really when I look below and try to call these memoirs, I don't know. It seems wrong. So, I'm going to start with the more recent past. I'm going to fast forward myself to the present in this blog. So that I can log the life now, the happiness and sorrow, the love & all the life. I yearn to talk about how beautiful things are now. No matter how hard. The sun is still rising as is the moon. We all had to teethe. We all have to skin our knee.

Yolanda. She looked into my eyes the last time I ever saw her, like it's all that she could do. She held my hand & let me put her socks on. I know all she wanted was to go outside. They wouldn't let her. She was in intensive care at the hospital. My new love, Louis, he called me today at work and needed to go see his Mama. She was refusing everything. Food, drink, medicine, help. She was giving up. I brought him whiskey at his request & came to the rescue. He couldn't handle it. He sobbed and sobbed and broke, and broke apart some more, he is still breaking. On the way out, he gave me a key and told me to go back and give it to her and tell her that she had the key to her son's heart. And it's true, I believe it. With much anxiety, I got myself back into intensive care & she was half asleep. I woke her up and gave her the key and said to her that it was the key to Sonny's heart. She gave me this look, like ok, and nodded and closed her hand around the key. And layed back down to sleep.

I wish I knew her better that day. I wish I had the balls to tell her that she should keep going, and not give up. That things would be better, we would be there for her. Maybe that's what she was thinking when she stared into my soul. Was that I would be there for her troubled son. Maybe that gave her peace. I hope so. she passed while I was in the desert, I was on a work trip & visited my cousin. We went to the desert & I walked out and sat on a rock far from everyone. I could feel her in the breeze and on the horizon all around. Moments later, Sonny called & affirmed what I had thought. I wished I had been there for him at that moment. She was gone.

The guilt of not having done right by her while she was here is tearing him apart. I tell him that he needs to live life right & do right by Sophia & that she can see that & knows that he loves her fiercely.

There's not much words can do when someone is tormented.

Yolanda, we love you. Your grand daughter loves you & I think she'll be a spitfire like you. She sees you in corners of the room when you visit. I know you visit too. Sonny's big brother Andrew said his daughter sees you too. Your Son, with better timing would have taken care of you. I'm sorry it happened too late. But I will take care of him until the end. You were right what you saw in my eyes. I love him fiercely. I try to remind him that you are inside of him, that he is half of you. That you are proud.

There were never any pictures...

What sounds like a statement is actually an excuse.
For trying to bring out of a faded memory, some glimmers of a past that will never shine. The only place this past will ever shine is within two beating organs in two separate bodies.

So, forgive me.

These are the memoirs.

Pedaling. Pedaling. Pedaling. Heart pinches at the sight of him. Pedaling, rearing up together, turn down a side street an onto the bike trail.

I can feel the cans of beer in my backpack rest comfortably on my lower back. I think to myself that they're slowly getting warm with my body heat. I'm learning to go over bumps, after all, I do have a mountain bike. I've always been so scared to ride up a curb or over a rock. Everytime it's a mystery to me that it is possible.

Sand.....when you hit sand, it's all over. Unless you're Jim of course, and you put it into the easiest gear and look really goofy trying to pedal through it, doing wheelies, kicking the sand up. I can't compete.

It's a full moon, and the moon is broken up and stretched out over the river tonight. The geese are flying overhead as we pull up and lay our bikes down together so they can cuddle. I plop my bottom in the sand and pull out an egg & a beer for both of us. We light up and start drinking. Staring at the river & the moon and the night.

After a little bit of this and a little bit of that. This controlled man by my side takes his clothes off and gets in the river. I follow suit. In the moonlight, confronting my fear of dark water in the flesh. He comes from the island in the middle and takes both of my hands. He walks me to the island and there, we sit, I guess we were contemplating......whatever we contemplate when we sit in silence together. Only this time we were naked in the river under the moon with our clothes and our bikes on the shore.

A Moment in time....

Haunted by his cell phone number in mine, every time.

I remember needing a ride from Foster City. Getting picked up in the station wagon:

Going to the city and visiting an old haunt of his. Always going to places where ghosts were looming from his past. I think it was the....gosh it was a hole in the wall...

I didn't know anyone by face, only by story and name. Here I sit, the older Asian bartender lady remembers him from when he worked at the fancy restaurant with Jean Luc. I forget the name now. Though I would have remembered lickety split had it been two years ago now / again, it's blurry. Dutch Falconi was playing in the shadows I remember.... and he was still the drummer in the band.

Drinking beers, reveling in the ghosts. It was a rainy day in the city and we both were very nostalgic in nature, driving down the road in the city in the rain was terribly romantic at the time.

Then we drove home in the dark and I peed in a cup & we were kinda drunk, got dropped off at home. That's where the romance kinda fell out of it.

More later.