Last year, just about this time, I had this wonderful feeling of satiation from the tip of my hat to the toes of my Eastlands. We were exploring something so beautiful and quiet. A place that was foreign, but familiar in that I had always wanted to be there. I had always wanted to have the sensation that I had arrived at the exact, perfect spot where I would experience such a true impression of happiness.
I
found myself trying to make all my dreams come true through the squint
of my eyelids. I imagined that time would stand still for us so that we
could live a whole, wide life in the perfect space reserved for such
things in my mind and heart. And we wouldn't have any obligations, and
pressing dates or times. No one would ever know we were absent. It felt
almost real, like I could reach out and take it as mine and just paste
it over all of the mistakes we had ever made, all of the days that were
too short. I took deep breaths. Stretched and posed among the trees. But
no matter how purely alive I felt, and how thoroughly delighted I was
to exist in this space, I knew that I couldn't really stay...Today I am writing emails left and right, furiously sliding my finger up and down the touch screen on my smart phone. I have consumed a good deal of candy corn, eaten yogurt, went for a run. I will surely watch television later on, try to get to bed at a reasonable hour. I will pet my cats. ... But today/tonight, I am thinking of that fullness that nearly kidnapped my soul. I am sending out waves of yearning.
