[as it was.]

in the way of love, i am well practiced in habits of vulnerability. i have never approached love carefully, only thrusting myself at it eagerly and without regret.

a short while ago, i started to ask myself why. i suppose it started with the hope that self-definition was something i could bypass, leaving it to my surroundings, fearing what would come if the endeavor was left to my own devices. (insecurely fraught as i was, i did not have much faith in them.) the fear of failing to love myself was more affecting than the fear of failing to love another. and to me, the inconsequential factor in the equation was that of love's ultimate consequence: heartbreak.

that is to say that despite having cried rivers while mourning the loss of love, i still continued to pursue it.

and i still continue to pursue it with faith in my efforts to find it.

hark, there's hope...

i just returned home from a trip to colorado. the air was thin from the elevation and the nearness of a closer sky.

we took three buses to boulder then hiked into the green belt mountains. at night, we slept under the stars. "arc to arcturis," he said, "along the big dipper."

he taught me how to hold a whittling knife and how to press its blade sideways into the woodgrain.

when my feet became blistered after four miles of walking, he lifted me high across the railroad tracks.

blue car, red car. we played games to pass the time.

in parks with picnic blankets; i, his wandering squaw, rolled sideways in the grass.

i had a good time in colorado :) but now i'm back here in california to catch hold of my upheaving adult responsibilities.

i salute you all for your patience with me.

with love,

your favorite fish