He says that I’ll be good at growing old. What I hear is, you don’t know me that well anymore. I wish I were the kind of person that didn’t bet so much on their good looks. I wish I were exactly the kind of person you think I am, she sounds so lovely and interesting. But, I am only the person I am.
A friend writes a poem in which she says, I could have been so many people. I find myself reciting this line for days on end as the tide comes in and goes out, as it muddies and clears. I can make sense of everything in life with analogy about the ocean. It does what we do- it comes and it goes.
Today the water is so clear I can see right through the turquoise shallows at the stones that catch the sunlight, worn smooth from the water and time.
I re-read highlighted lines in an old book out loud all morning. Acceptance is a small quiet house.
I already miss what I have here and it is not even gone, and I am not even certain it is going. What I don’t want is to look back and say once again, I wish I had just enjoyed it more while I had it.
I do not want to say that about anything- not about the ocean, or a lover, or my good looks.