Tag Archives: friendship

Killingsworth

I drove south on the freeway today, my mind turning to you as I passed it.  The Killingsworth Exit.  The exit that once led me to your door.

There was a time when driving past that exit would require a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel to keep the tears at bay.  Now, there is no extraordinary grip required.  There was a time when the wounds were fresh, still bleeding freely and refusing to heal. They are but scars now.  The faint lines across my soul where it was once torn. 

There was a time when the mere act of passing the exit would send me reeling backward in time; back to stolen moments spent with you – laughing, sharing music, doing that anticipatory little dance in the kitchen before our mouths invariably met, melded and yielded all the sensual fruits we craved. 

They were stolen moments.  As surely as if we had snatched them from the shelf of the local convenience mart and furtively shoved them in our pockets, those days and nights together were purloined goods.  They were moments that never should have been ours in the first place.  Maybe that is why they felt so thrilling, tasted so unbelievably sweet.  Maybe that is why there was such an empty hole left behind when they were gone. 

I think about you from time to time.  When I do, I feel no anger or bitterness swelling up inside me.  I no longer feel the stabbing pain in my gut as the thought pierces me over and over:  Why?

Now, when my thoughts turn to you they are simple.  Are you happy?  Do you spend your weekends with your daughter as you dreamed?  Do you thrive in your job and have you set roots down in your new home?  Have you decorated your home and what car did you replace the Pearl with? Do you grill flank steak and drink Iron Horse? Do you listen to Mule? Do you sleep well at night, knowing you are writing the chapter in your story you wanted?  And sometimes I even wonder, do you ever think of me?

I don’t have any answers.  That once drove me nearly mad – the lack of answers and the endless swirling questions.  But like a tornado in my heart, the winds have died down.  That funnel of wind, fueled by grief and silence, fed by the unknown and unattainable has faded.  I won’t say my soul is at peace.  That would be stretching the truth too far.  But I will say that storm within has passed. 

Now, when my thoughts turn to you as I drive past the Killingsworth sign, I raise my eyes momentarily to the clouds above and say a prayer that you are well.  I pray you are whole and thriving, that your world is everything you wanted it to be.  I wish you well and even if you don’t want it any longer, I feel the ties of friendship that for me, were never severed. 

And I keep on driving. 

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Insomniac’s Lament

The fog is gathering outside the bedroom window of my apartment.  A nearby traffic light splashes colors in sequence on my bedroom wall, red, green, yellow, red.  I should be sleeping but the oblivion of sleep is not mine to be had on this cold night.  I am being kept awake by the clanging of memories in my head.

Moments from a not-too-distant past come back to me, tiny snippets return home to nest in my mind.  The sound of your laugh. The feel of your long fingers as they touched my face.  I still sigh when I think of your touch.  The only person I have ever known who could make me feel fragile and beautiful, utterly revered, with simply a touch.

I find myself searching to recreate some of those moments.  A good meal, even better conversation and the story of my life spinning on the CD player.  Laughter and companionship.  Open wounds examined and analyzed,  carefully tended to and healed.  Freedom and expression.  Romance and redemption.  Rebirth.

I search in vain.

It is easy to go back in my mind, and paint over the painful parts.  To cover the awkward moments, ignore the signs and signals that you flashed along the way.  You left a bread-crumb trail for me to follow – and in my haste to reach you, in my rush to be by your side, I missed them all.

I see them now, thanks to the benefit of my old friend: 20/20 hindsight.  I hear the messages you carefully wove in your words; the cautions, the warnings that this was indeed a temporary state of bliss.  My foolish optimism knew no bounds and I hoped, I believed.  All the while, the realist in me knew that with each step, as it grew into something far beyond its humble beginnings, that it would not – it could not – last.

But when I close my eyes and rest my head on my pillow at night I can feel your hands on my face.  While it is the memory of your touch that haunts me, it is the friendship I miss the most.

You tried to tell me.  I just didn’t want to hear it.  There is no way this could have been a lasting thing.  Rebounds are like snowflakes – fragile, unique and never meant to stand the test of time.

 

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Pussy Progress Report – 12-14-13

Hi there my horny little readers,

Pussy here to just give you a little update.  CJ is much better, moving around and rehabilitating from her unfortunate injury.  At this point, the jury is still out on whether or not the mind-blowing orgasm that accompanied the strain was actually worth it, but hey, on the bright side she got a doctor’s note that gave her permission to stay in bed for a week and take narcotics.  I’m pretty sure there are at least one or two people out there who will have a pang of jealousy reading that.

Sad part? She’d rather be up and about, hauling a Christmas tree up to her new apartment, decorating with her Ella Fitzgerald playing, the smell of cinnamon and pine in her nose.  She’d rather be chatting with friends, shopping for surprises to delight her friends, close and far away, just to show them she is thinking about them.

Because she is.  She is thinking about her friends.  The ones who here came to her side and helped her to the emergency room.  The ones who braved icy roads to get her home and back to a safe place.  The ones who brought her healthy food and the ones who brought her naughty food.  The ones who reached out to make sure she was really okay, even the ones who just came to sit on the floor next to her bed for a while and keep her company.  Of all the medications and rehabilitation having been offered, those small connections with friends have proved to be the best medicine.

She is going to be fine.  CJ is a pretty tough cookie.  And just because she’s too incapacitated to lie in bed and type about the naughty thoughts she is having at the moment, trust me friends, she is having them and very much looking forward to sharing. 😉

And one day soon, that naughty girl will put away the Valium and Percoset and get back to delighting you readers.

And CJ has decided to add a new year’s resolution to her 2014:  More yoga classes so the next time she gets told to turn herself around and dp herself hard, she can oblige without a trip to urgent care.

Gotta have goals, right?

Stay wet friends,

Pussy

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