minutesofhoney

Archive for October, 2013|Monthly archive page

October’s Missive

In Happiness, Philosophy, Uncategorized on October 27, 2013 at 8:21 pm

Hi love,

So I think there’ll be some changes made. Let’s figure out what it is we do when we are happy. Let’s figure out what being happy has us do:

I think swinging on the swing last week, watching the orange glow trash fires and bodies in coats and smiles, that was happy. Oh boy for sure. Biking naked was happy. Oh girl for sure. So was laughing in liquor brain as people balanced plates on knees, a living room two-step of thunk guitars and opening mouths on words.

Falling in love is happy. Music is happy. Gathering people like paintbrushes in an old tin jug, door-knocks on chicken soup and Cluedo and you sitting silent, ocean-swept off the light of friends’ faces, happy.

A barn with an upright bass. Happy. Fairy light strung shopfronts. Happy. Cooking with Emily. Calling Kate. Ballet. The way Alex’s voice prisms into wind chimes. Happy. Face making down the street…with Clare. Opening a letter…from Olivia. Thinking things through…with Liz. Painting Mom’s toes and cards with Dad…happy. Joe Aaron blasting with the band…Happy!

Being part of something. Is happy. Being something, being whole is not. We’re only a series of spots, one after one after all, unwitting stops: plot the graph! Let’s see what together we be by being part.

No sir, not for me is fate to be flung by George Seurat into one dot on canvas. Let me lose myself in an avalanche of others. I shan’t tell you I’m whole, without your hand to hold. Because being part is happy. One breath in a long-breathe heart, happy.

Dear Love

In Family, Friends, Love, Music on October 27, 2013 at 7:53 pm

Dear Love,

You have been so good to me. You sent me to two parents who have given their entire lives to sharing you with me. You sent me to a best friend who when she cut my hair when we were six years old and we chased the ice cream truck with broken toes and made bad parties into giant jokes has never stopped showing me what you are. You sent me to a gang of girls to lick you into the bowls of leftover cupcake frosting and sweat you off of college dance parties sprinting into early hours, who let me cry you into their pillows after I lost you and was left with your memory. You sent me to a man who saw only you in me. You sent me to a gaggle of music-makers across continents, a troupe of acrobats happy for nothing more than catching your fleeting coattails for a sail.

Love, I love you. You were the forehead I kissed goodbye and the hand that held mine wordlessly stating you will be found again. You were the woman who hoped for me and the one who left her smile on my face.

When you leave, you have not left, because I love you love. And I love, you love.

Love,
Me