A night that lasts forever
I had a date on Saturday night that now feels more like a journey than anything else. It seems like another lifetime ago when I stopped in at J’s house on my way to meet T to have a couple of glasses of champagne to take the edge of my nervousness – and then there was music, dancing, new friends, talking, and a strong gravitational pull that gripped and tugged at the ground beneath my feet – somewhere between tetonic shifts and uncommon attraction – another day dawned – and with it came a steady hum just below my skin – late on Sunday my friends set up camp on the bayou and applauded the front door of the LaLa opening and my date bravely emerging beside me – I was walking inches above the earth, just skimming the bricks – J was there in her boat waiting to give us an intervening respite from inquisitive eyes – the sun, the crisp air, the sparkling bayou could not have presented itself any better as a picture of Sunday’s promise – even the soft black lab puppy that emerged from neighbors and found its way into my house to be adopted by G, who wants to name her Love, fit inside this painting – and then at some second, minute, hour, unidentifiable time measure in the evening, when I was lying in bed and smelling Soap Opera & Verbena combined in some fashion that made my head loopy not because I lacked sleep or food (because I lacked for nothing at all) but because I felt as if I had walked waltzed through the threshold of beginnings.