Yesterday started with heavy thoughts, a squashy heart, a brimming coffee cup, and the exuberant sunshine outside. I trudged, reluctantly, headlong into Monday Morning. After my Bearded Companion left for work, I turned up Law & Order, crawled deeper into my sweatshirt-of-many-stains, and began to read the news (aka stories about art and cute animals).
This is when the day went in an entirely different direction.
You might recall my dear Suzanne alerting me some time ago to a blog clearly designed for me– a blog called Boys with Beards with Cats. She wrote,
A summation of your life? Beards and cats? I wish it was Cute Cats with Beards, but whatevs.
Immediately, I found the blog’s “submit” button, and I sent in a splendid photo of Jake and Tsi-Shi I took two Christmases ago. From then until now, I have been waiting.
Yesterday, I was rewarded.
And the people LOVED it. One girl wrote,
If someone doesn’t give me that man I’m going to make all the creys everywhere
Whatever that means. I shall take it as a compliment of the highest order.
I was so pleased. And after my initial exuberance wore off, I thought back to the creation of that image, the moment of being nestled safely in Maryland after flying all day and all night from six-months in New Zealand and arriving to Baltimore and Ingrid and winter and driving south to the place where the water meets the shore, being swept up into a warm bed, and the fireplace and the pets and warm remnants of Christmas and loved ones.
I suppose we always are, but especially then I felt perched on the edge of things, drunk on jetlag and the constant mutability of experience. We found ourselves back on the in-between. The next night we packed ourselves and our few possessions into Jake’s tiny black car and set off into the darkness of January, northward, towards Huntingdon, our teeth chattering with cold and excitement, windows open, my body covered in blankets, gloved hands holding fast to picture frames and bag handles while the headlights grazed over the frozen landscape. Five hours later, we moved into our second-story train-side apartment with three bags and no lightbulbs and no hope for employment, just the knowledge that we were held firmly and fast together. We lit candles and ate sandwiches and felt lucky, like children. We had a mattress on the floor and two sleeping bags. I had known Jake for just over a year and it was our fourth home.