Silence...
It's deafening, she says to herself.
She's reading too much into the absence of conversation.
She understands the why and what for, the commitment to something, not someone, else.. especially now..
Their absence of each other over years, has lead to a litany of explanations of relationships working and not...
By working, he meant not paying attention in all the right phases and her (not she) somehow putting up with what he does but the not didn't mean it ended, just that it's not.
And she explained.. had he done those things in their parallel universe, she would have never been that tolerant (although it didn't sound like tolerance hadn't been real..) And had it continued, life would be different for both.
He agreed but also admitted "it always takes two..."
To which she responded..."its all in how both sides handle the situation..."
And his closing words (in that moment) ..at which she smiled. 

         "Never truer words written"
Silence... she understands. Doesn't mean she has to like it....

PS...

As karma.. and the universe.. would command.... Silence was broken.
No explanation asked.. none needed to be given.. just "busy week".. she understood...for both...
The conversation flowed. Music, life, happenings..
The present, filled with easy banter... which helped explain the silence without specifically asking.
The way distant past revisited, because it can be in .. which was closer to both, having lived much of it together.. Yet apart.
The subtle innuendo that occurs each meeting but means much to both.
The anecdotes that help when memories fail...
An hour and a 1/2 later, which felt more like mere seconds, later .. ..
The parting... 

then... 

Sleep...

Sleep and Dreams.

 She's tired...  The calendar turns.. the year is almost done.  For what ever reason, although she really does know why, her life, has become exponentially busier.

3 nights...  3 hours of sleep..  4th night 5...  Why??  She Feels to drop asleep any second but she can't seem to stop working.  To many things to get finished, new things cropping up, taking the lead.

She takes her leave, heads to her resting place and turns on the music only for her ears.. her body begins to relax, her shoulders soften.. 

Her brain switches.  the melody line, rhythm and beat.   Off of the hustle and bustle that surrounding her in real life and onto the faraway thoughts of communications, conversations, language and words said to and from another not of this space but of this time.   With her eyes closed, she remembers the last exchange.  She smiles slightly... pulls her body under the covers .. and dreams..

Weighted..

 She has a thing about pottery..   the 20oz mug on the right, she loves because it gives just her just enough coffee in the morning.  The other ones she owns., standard size coffee mugs, leave her feeling a little sad as the bottom of the cup approaches. 

Her newest and most loved acquisition.. she purchased them both on the same day ..but still..  is this glazed on the inside..  raw fired clay on the outside beauty..  now her constant companion.  Her daughter thought she was drinking from a flower pot until she explained what it was..  a massive 32oz mug that holds fabulous amounts of ice and water, that when mixed within the vessel, give a cool dampness to the outside and feels like a large rock weighted in her hands.  SHE'S IN LOVE...   Oh she knows its just a mug.. but it's hers and the heaviness of it makes her hand feel as it she is holding something substantial.. of value.   And she is..   at least to her. 

Conversations...

 2:45am.. She wishes he were awake..   just to even say hello...   

They have had this conversation....  he's not a social media, phone always on, able to talk/chat, person.  She is completely that way.   He signs into the chat they connect through and she sees that he has read her side of the story.. but he doesn't answer.    She continues to write hoping he will say something...anything..just to let her know he is there or at least acknowledges her writing and maybe adds his own narrative to the story.  But sometimes it doesn't happen.  

She wrote...  One day we will have a full blown conversation without having to type it in... 

He wrote... or without dropped calls...

She wrote. And no interruptions to the conversations..   one day.. 

2:58am...   she knows he's asleep...  she isn't.   2:59..

Life and lemons!!

She sits and stares.. she isn't sure what to write.  as usual, to many things going on at the same time... but isn't that normal in her life??

She forgot some important information sent to a group for a meeting yesterday..  just simply forgotten.  She isn't feeling it much these days and didn't check her notes, as she should have.  Not really a big deal, but it isn't a great thing to have done.   She also has other thing that need to be done before the next meeting.. communications that have to be taken care of.. but. . again. .it's the complacency of the group, the lack of really wanting to continue.. but.. as usual she will... Life Goes On!!!

She has another project that she's also struggling with.  She isn't sure which way to turn. It started out being the activist side.. not necessarily front and centre, but didn't necessarily mind being a "lead".   But, again, it changed... She didn't.. she's still angry and pissed off (which are the same thing) and wanting to make a difference, but it seems the other "leads" have different ideas.  be calm, protect the ones out front, let them speak, but don't rock too much of the boat, Build support. and when the time is right, we will be ready to strike..   but that semi complacency got the better of her yesterday and she called and got "the guy in charge" and laid into him.. possibly shouldn't have. .but it just is not adding up.. questions unanswered and the list goes on.   UGH!!!.  Again.. Life Goes On!!!

She is sure there are other things that need to be done. 

• Paint the picture frame, so it can dry and she can take it back to the framing place and get the rest of the piece put back together and sell.
• Contact a few new members of the club and make sure they come back
• clean her desk (what a concept)
• Do some other cleaning/sorting in the house.. 
• and the list goes on..

Making life.. out of Lemons!!!

Daytime.

She's up. It's morning.  She needs to pull her book out and make a list today, as somedays go by with no rhyme nor reason and at the end, she isn't sure what she has done.. accomplished.. finished.. or even started.

She does have a list of things, but her mind, her being, is stopping her from getting them done.   Oh silly stuff like housework.. ha..  laundry, cleaning. the mundane things that don't mean anything, except they help in the "feel better" part of the living she does.  She thinks to the list of things that have taken place over the last few days.. and stops... 

She made a realization yesterday, based on something she read.. that maybe she IS remembered by more than she knows.  those long ago happenings that have added up into memories and she thought it possible she was the only one to store them.. Maybe not.    The piece was, actually, 11 years old .. but it popped up and she had to read it a couple of times.. The first for comprehension (The action or capability of understanding something) and the 2nd for meaning (intended to communicate something that is not directly expressed).. It was the 2nd that struck her...  Had it actually been said??  She was sure it hadn't been lost on the reader (herself) or the writer (another) at the time of posting, but in a public forum, others wouldn't understand.  However, it was incongruous (look it up.. and she normally doesn't use "big" words....) and life had continued..  

She stops typing... rests her head in her hands with elbows propped on her desk..  The feeling rises and the wetness around her eyes comes.  The feeling returns and she can't stop it.  it's not the more , it's the distance, it's the connection and the shear inability to do anything about it or stop it from happening. She pulls her glasses away, wipes each eye with the palm of each hand.. It doesn't help.   This isn't pain she feels, it isn't holding her back from her day.  It is the memories she can't bring forward.  It's a way to know they are there.  It's the ones that are missing that mean the most.    and it's the connection (the then and the wanting to be now) she wants more than anything.. The dots from the past to the future.. the then, the now and the forever. 

Night and darkness

Night closes in...   She's been sitting to long.. today, yesterday..  Too many things going on that require her to watch, look, read, see.  Not to mention those things she has no control over, but are there, hanging.

She's not really sure that she is a night person, she doesn't really like the dark but she has always stayed up later than the rest.  Maybe it's the quiet of the house, and the silence outside the doors that keep her up.  And while she loves the warmth of the sun and sea on her skin, it's the night, wrapped in comforting darkness that seems to draw her in. 

It's also the time, once she has shut her computer down and done her nightly routine...  that she finally finds herself lying on her left side, with a pillow in the crook of her neck, another pushed into her back for support and one to her front, pushed close,  with an arm hugging it and a leg wrapped around it, as if holding on for dear life..  Relaxed to a point, It is then that her mind wanders and goes places it likely shouldn't.  eye's closed..   dreams don't come but wishes and hopes seem to scroll through her mind until she tells them to stop.  in some cases, the dreams, that are an integral part of a good night sleep, never come..  

it is still dark and  comforting and quite and eventually.. she sleeps.