Friday Night Home, again.

Last night after work, I put on my hat and sweatpants and left for a walk. I walked and watched the sky turn from a brilliant crisp blue with fluffy whites to a romantic, melancholy grey purple. I watched the trees move and wave. I watched an old Asian woman in her eighties walked laboriously with a pack of paper towels. She gave me a huge toothless smile, squinted eyes, and we mouthed, hello, to each other.

I have grown to love my lone walks. I have never experienced this level of intimacy with the world like I do these days, one step at a time. The texture of old apartment buildings, each crack on the road, the smells of cars, grass, dogs… everything is so much closer in detail, so much more intimate when I am on my foot.

My newest, dearest friend, Jean, worries about my trip to Italy alone. How are you going to communicate with anyone?? She raised her concern. It’ll be so inconvenient!  She tried to make me see her point. But Darling, I reassured her, I have no problem communicating with babies, dogs, trees, flowers, what makes you think I would have any problem communicating with Italians?? This, is something I am proud of myself for-my ability to connect with all beings.

I am not afraid of being alone. I am always connected. Jean looked at me like I am crazy, but she loves me anyways.

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I had  a dream of D last night. He came back to visit, already. It’s been almost a month since he left. In my dream we sat on the street, he was playing the flute.

Despite the fact that D is not a romantic person at all, we’ve shared many romantic moments and I know that I am the one who manifested those experiences for myself. We’ve sat across from each other under trees, in a secret backyard patio with wine and candle. We’ve walked on late night empty streets and stopped for long kisses. We’ve listened to live music together while making each other laugh. We’ve debated and occasionally, reluctantly agreed with the other person. We’ve fallen asleep holding hands. We’ve passed each other at work, smiling and looking away. We’ve had breakfast at Denny’s, completely overdressed, him in a suit, me in my black dress and black heels. We’ve shared lingering kisses at my door before he left. And he always, always sent a text on his way home to tell me what a wonderful time he had.

But his leaving framed our time together and we were to never fall in love with each other. I am really grateful for the memories we’ve created together.

I would like, when I am to date again, for the guy to be older, more romantic, more present, and not moving to another country.

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