whose woods these are i think i know
She sits beside me and we pass a small glass of Armagnac back and forth.
Glowing under candle light her eyes are watering. She would like to be with her family for Christmas, and she is sad to leave me once more. I tell her that I missed her, painfully, all summer. She takes another sip, tops up our glass, and passes it back to me.
After a final evening together my friend Robyn left this morning. We left her and her boyfriend at the subway stop with giant back packs perched on their bodies. They spent a week with us in our small village, tasting local wines-or was it more than a taste?-and relaxing after months of continuous travel. They have been all around Europe, and now they continue their adventure with a stopover in Paris and London before spending three weeks in India.
I lived with Robyn for two years, until last year she graduated and left the city. Amidst those years I would look at her and say "you know we'll remember these years as some of the best." And they were. There are many more to come, but I'll never forget screaming over dead mice, dancing in her bedroom, our nightly stiff drinks, homemade meals, and conversations that could never be repeated to another soul.
She is someone I always want to have in my life. It was good to see her and her beau, one of the most gentle men I've ever come across, brought closer together by travel. They are an excellent pair who I have shared many romantic meals for three with, and it makes my heart sing to see them as they are. If you can spend every breath of every day with someone for three months while barely showering, doing laundry, and staying in the cheapest hotels you can find, then you've got something worth holding onto. The day his pants were dirty and he wore her yoga pants will endear me to him forever.
They are both people I am happy to share quiet days with. We enjoyed many good meals, shared poetry by candlelight, and when I was too sick to get out of bed Robyn cooked and entertained visitors while I slept.
Their adventure continues and I continue my own in this little village. I am enjoying the slow days, the solitude, the French language on my tongue, and the time to think as I prepare for a new year.
Glowing under candle light her eyes are watering. She would like to be with her family for Christmas, and she is sad to leave me once more. I tell her that I missed her, painfully, all summer. She takes another sip, tops up our glass, and passes it back to me.
After a final evening together my friend Robyn left this morning. We left her and her boyfriend at the subway stop with giant back packs perched on their bodies. They spent a week with us in our small village, tasting local wines-or was it more than a taste?-and relaxing after months of continuous travel. They have been all around Europe, and now they continue their adventure with a stopover in Paris and London before spending three weeks in India.
I lived with Robyn for two years, until last year she graduated and left the city. Amidst those years I would look at her and say "you know we'll remember these years as some of the best." And they were. There are many more to come, but I'll never forget screaming over dead mice, dancing in her bedroom, our nightly stiff drinks, homemade meals, and conversations that could never be repeated to another soul.
She is someone I always want to have in my life. It was good to see her and her beau, one of the most gentle men I've ever come across, brought closer together by travel. They are an excellent pair who I have shared many romantic meals for three with, and it makes my heart sing to see them as they are. If you can spend every breath of every day with someone for three months while barely showering, doing laundry, and staying in the cheapest hotels you can find, then you've got something worth holding onto. The day his pants were dirty and he wore her yoga pants will endear me to him forever.
They are both people I am happy to share quiet days with. We enjoyed many good meals, shared poetry by candlelight, and when I was too sick to get out of bed Robyn cooked and entertained visitors while I slept.
Their adventure continues and I continue my own in this little village. I am enjoying the slow days, the solitude, the French language on my tongue, and the time to think as I prepare for a new year.
posted by Gillian Young at 7:36 AM
2 Comments:
oh my god i miss my sister
Oh! You guys are just so cute!
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