eat your heart out, but save room for dessert
The past few days I have been high and low, sick and healthy, lovesick and lonely and then suddenly happy for solitude.
My dark haired lover showed up at my door to tell me he’d be going to the ocean for an infinite number of days. Feeling fragile after days of sleeplessness, my eyes filled with tears. He didn’t know if he’d be gone a week, two weeks, or more. He will be coming and going all summer. I felt as if my heart had been torn out of my chest and stomped onto the cobble stone streets to make a fine wine. My last image of him is of his body walking away, his head turned towards me, his hand reluctantly waving. Not wanting him to see me cry, I turned into my house, avoiding the usual eye gazing that continues until he’s completely out of sight.
He was ecstatic to have a vacation, a smile taking over half his face, and I was heartbroken to have his body so far from mine for so long. He told me he was going to walk all the way back- this is practically impossible-and show up at my doorstep.
After an hour of tears and troubled breathing I was cleansed. I was fine with the fact that he was gone, happy to have time to myself, to have time to catch up on some sleep and to remember who I am. I was so wrapped up in him that the thought of me was starting to lose meaning.
His departure may also be a blessing in disguise, as the writing workshop begins tomorrow and I must be in full form.
For a week I have the job of my dreams, preparing large feasts for all the writers and small meals for the professors, my mom and I.
Tonight a few of the writers arrived. Two were dropped at a house that I cleaned voraciously for five hours yesterday, and one at a beautiful bed and breakfast. I feel alive showing them around, doing what I can to help out, and watching them arrive one by one.
I made my first meal tonight, a simple feast for us four women: a large salad laced with marinated red peppers, corn niblets, fresh peppers, ripe tomatoes, endives, parsley, basil and a vinaigrette dressing. On the side I served ham from the butchers, a melon salad dressed with lemon and basil, cheese and bread. Dessert was a plate of thick chunks of French chocolate and biscuits, as we have more than a few chocolate lovers in the house.
I am currently feeling inspired. I’m surrounded by so much of what I love, and my hands are still moving. Tomorrow the rest of the writers arrive, and I make the welcome feast. I could eat the stars in the sky.
My dark haired lover showed up at my door to tell me he’d be going to the ocean for an infinite number of days. Feeling fragile after days of sleeplessness, my eyes filled with tears. He didn’t know if he’d be gone a week, two weeks, or more. He will be coming and going all summer. I felt as if my heart had been torn out of my chest and stomped onto the cobble stone streets to make a fine wine. My last image of him is of his body walking away, his head turned towards me, his hand reluctantly waving. Not wanting him to see me cry, I turned into my house, avoiding the usual eye gazing that continues until he’s completely out of sight.
He was ecstatic to have a vacation, a smile taking over half his face, and I was heartbroken to have his body so far from mine for so long. He told me he was going to walk all the way back- this is practically impossible-and show up at my doorstep.
After an hour of tears and troubled breathing I was cleansed. I was fine with the fact that he was gone, happy to have time to myself, to have time to catch up on some sleep and to remember who I am. I was so wrapped up in him that the thought of me was starting to lose meaning.
His departure may also be a blessing in disguise, as the writing workshop begins tomorrow and I must be in full form.
For a week I have the job of my dreams, preparing large feasts for all the writers and small meals for the professors, my mom and I.
Tonight a few of the writers arrived. Two were dropped at a house that I cleaned voraciously for five hours yesterday, and one at a beautiful bed and breakfast. I feel alive showing them around, doing what I can to help out, and watching them arrive one by one.
I made my first meal tonight, a simple feast for us four women: a large salad laced with marinated red peppers, corn niblets, fresh peppers, ripe tomatoes, endives, parsley, basil and a vinaigrette dressing. On the side I served ham from the butchers, a melon salad dressed with lemon and basil, cheese and bread. Dessert was a plate of thick chunks of French chocolate and biscuits, as we have more than a few chocolate lovers in the house.
I am currently feeling inspired. I’m surrounded by so much of what I love, and my hands are still moving. Tomorrow the rest of the writers arrive, and I make the welcome feast. I could eat the stars in the sky.
posted by Gillian Young at 3:17 PM
2 Comments:
You are so alive, Gill!
You are going to do so great at the workshop! I wish I could be there so much! Bring us some lessons!
You are so alive, Gill!
You are going to do so great at the workshop! I wish I could be there so much! Bring us some lessons!
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