The Miracle
O Gabrielle,
Today, Gray and I met in Nice and I had my best day yet. Beautiful things become all the more tangible when you have someone to awe at them with. We met at the Fountain of the Sun where the god Apollo, presumably, bursts from the waves, a head of horses, surrounded by statues of nymphs.
Nice is a land of fairies if you have a friend who knows the right places. We sat at the beach and talked about life for hours and hours. I have talked to Gray before of course but never quite this much and it was such a treat. We have more in common than I knew. Things seemed to move freely, like a stuck faucet finally coming loose and spilling out. Things became clear.
Oh to listen and be listened to! What greater joy than being understood?
We walked through Old Nice and it too came, what I had been looking for, like the feeling of a miracle. The dreams finally realized. Chagall would paint it in saffron yellow stretching from the sky in beams.
The streets were cobblestone and there were no cars and everywhere smells wafted from nearby boulangerie smelling of something nearly forgotten, but not quite gone. We couldn’t help but wander in. I got a vegetable pizza and Gray got this croissant full of thick sweet cream.
Everywhere was singing. Art in a tiny gallery where they struggle to make money, handmade indigo oil paint deep and divine. Streets with skewing steps, leading to somewhere sunlit. We wandered into a magnificent cathedral and sat for a prayer. The ceilings were arching, covered in art, golden haloes, stories of the ancient and sacred, heavenly bodies. This was what I had longed for.
I don’t want to go back to being alone.
Home is over. It is sad. Going back is over. Only way to go is ahead. Only thing to do is wander. Must build new homes. It takes long. Relationships require time to build trust and comfort and that warm kind of feeling. I was a lonely wanderer my whole life, then I built a home and family. I learned how to make a home and a family. I wonder if my next home will be the one I will not leave ever. A part of me itches to move. A part of me yearns to stay, stay forever. I would like to find something warm, fulfilling and dynamic enough to never leave.
How are you? How is Zachlet and Devvy? I want to wrap you all in my arms.
It’s a hard thought to grasp that it’s over now. Never again will we sit on that couch and watch a movie in our house, with our stuff. My yogi friend always tells me to release attachments. But I don’t think that’s me. I attach. I cling. I hold on. To things, and places and people and faces. I like to hold and be held back. I am not alone. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t see why that is wrong.
I am curled up under my covers listening to airpods. Music and warmth. Self-made systems of comfort.
Oh sweet friend,
Where will we be? How shall we grow? Who shall we become? We must make like seeds and explode into flowers.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxx
