candles vs. bonfires.

last year, at this time almost, it was sleep vs. no sleep. when i was dizzy with wonderment, uncertain if i was dreaming, swinging up out of a dark time in my life. when i stayed up till four a.m. watching short foreign films with a redheaded boy i had just met, when i wrote letters to him in class and shyly exchanged them later that evening, when my best friend gave me yellow shoes for christmas and i wore them on a first date with him.

last november, i was unhappier than i had ever been before. i was desperate get out. and without warning, and before i could understand, doors opened and windows, too, and light spilled in. happiness, after a long time without, is like light. whether it enters your life in a flood, as in the sudden yank of blinds, or whether it creeps slowly behind you, like a sunrise–it’s a gift, a surprise, an essential you’d forgotten.

this november, i am one thousand miles away from my love. i have been since may, will be until may. sometimes it is like this: “Days of absence, dark and dreary, / Clothed in sorrow’s dark array / Days of absence, I am weary.” (shakespeare). last november, my fingernails were gold or silver; i lived on bagels. i was not happy. i didn’t know where i was going. but my beautiful God knew—now my fingernails are dark red; He is opening doors for me. and i know that really, “absence weakens mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind blows out candles and kindles fires.” (Rochefoucald)

what if i drank every last drop of coffee in my cup one morning? would he wonder why? would he notice a change  that slight?
i say yes, because charlie sees me.

“We lived long together / a life filled, / if you will, / with flowers.” –william carlos williams.