At 4am I saw a rising waning moon light the sky. Too tired to climb to the hot tub at the top of our hill, too warm in my bed to brave the cool night air, I let the stars and trees enjoy the naked time without my company. I stared instead at my old iPad, and looked for a love note from my sweet lover. I found him on a facebook post announcing that he had found Bruce Damer at Center camp, a picture of them smiling and dust free, burning man goggles as costumes around their necks, ready if needed to see through a white out.
No response to the message I sent, I wonder if he found it, or if the bandwidth is barely enough to upload a jpeg, but not download an email. I notice how lucky and longing I feel for the daily posts he makes to tell our tribe his fav moments. I look for the sunset shot of the day… I know he got one, but maybe can’t slow down enough to share it from the Thursday night playa.
My Thursday was filled with small victories, like unloading a washer & dryer & a Uhaul of obsolete junk and recycling at the Ben Lomond Transfer station. Mark and Kelly drove down the scary steep FuturePeak hill together, already amused and used to the idea that in the case of any tipping over, they will leave this world together. They are enjoying the fascinating mystery reserved for new soulmates, discovering amazing similarities in their treasured memories, and affirming synchronicities of their unfolding destiny.
I drive the lead car, iPhone hailing frequencies open, intending to pick them up after dropping off the rental truck on Ocean Street in Santa Cruz.
After all the days pleasant chores, the garden watered, dinner dishes put away, we tried to turn on a movie from Netflix. The screen was black or blue, the Septre TV set seemed frozen, and Kelly and I did all our techchic magic to make our media dreams come true, to no avail. Mark showed up, unplugged and restarted the set, the apple tv, and clicked a button on the remote. Suddenly he found the previously hidden HDMI channel and it worked. We watched the icloud images from Al’s stream and told stories as we relived the memories. Almost fell asleep alone on the couch. The lack of an adequate blanket nudged my somnambulist mind to make the journey to my empty bed.
I definitely wonder as I wake up alone if I should resist or admit I am feeling older these days. I imagine young men when I think of moving heavy furniture, and keep a distance as I speak in case my breath smells like a dragon. I feel strong as ever, just more cautious and patient. I am enjoying filling time with spaciousness, and not speaking at all as the crickets chatter all night. Have I already done what I came here to do? Can I see well enough to read or find something small in the fuzz and blur without glasses? Will I ever lose twenty pounds and feel like wearing my old sexy clothes that are just too tight? Shall I give up and give them all to Good Will, or gift them to my younger friends? I don’t want to rush, but I must say the transition over the hill is fully underway.
TimeIsArt 