I have new freckles on my knees.
They are the only outward sign of 3 days in the mild Spanish sun. I wanted you to notice, I wanted to point to them and say: see, see!
The photo arrived this morning, and my heart swelled to twice its normal size. People who love me! Friends who’ve become family. My safe place. We’re all smiling, and I remember how happy I was. I wanted to show you. I was so proud. Look, look. This is my life, these are my people. I wanted you to get it. To see what I loved and what loved me.
I read a book, and almost abandoned it 20 pages in because it was weird and not easy to get lost in. Then I read on and it broke my heart to pieces and healed me and made me desperate to write again and to live and to love and I wanted to show you. I wanted to say, read it! Or at least to tell you all about it, breathless, eyes shining.
I woke up feeling hollow because we were thoroughly, undramatically done and even though we had to be I didn’t want to be and the thought of not touching you, not baring our souls over pints of Brooklyn, not pressing my leg up against yours in bars made me want to weep.
And I wanted to tell all of this to you. I wanted to tell you how sad I was, and how joyful, and how that’s how it always would be with me. Being both. All of the things at once.
