Tags: 'verse

in motion


I've been introspective as hell but I haven't been posting about it.  Lots of thoughts to do with getting older, an awareness of change.  Been thinking lately about the ephemeral quality of my passions: there are so few that have stayed true over time.  Which is not to say that their temporary truth is any less real; what they meant to me, what I found in them, it all mattered.  At the time.  And each moment of impact leaves an impression on me that doesn't change.  It's I who change around it.   So many tiny bits of my heart have been given away, renewed, replaced.  Shedding the old and building anew is what we do.  The skin I wear today has never been touched by people who held me last month.  We are always starting over.  We just start over from a different place each time.  Further along.

Today it's been fifteen years since Pär and I ran off and got married on a whim.  We figured we'd make up the rest as we went along and keep doing what felt right, whatever life might bring.  They call it tying a knot but for me it's felt more like a slow entwining, continually making the decision to turn toward each other instead of away.  The shape of us changes as each of us changes.  There is no knot holding us together except for what we have formed out of ourselves.  We've grown around each other like trees sharing the light, leaning on one another, becoming ever more an us.  Roots entangled, deep down into the ground.  We have a past together, and a future.

sweden, early days.  we were -- what, twenty three?
unretouched photo; that swirling haze of color around us really was there.  always.

in motion


"You should be using your powers for good," he said, frowning at me.


"Zombie musicians? I don't care about that crap."

"He's the one who sings 'She-Devils Of The Deep'."

"What? That guy?" He started waving his arms around. "I love that song! Love it! He's the best! Okay, now I'm mad for a different reason."

"What's the problem?"

"I would have totally enjoyed your journal entry if I'd known who you were talking about. You should have written something to let me know I cared."


They don't make anniversary cards inscribed Just To Let You Know You Care, but if they did, I could give him one today. Thirteen years ago (I was a child bride), this weird Swedish guy and I spontaneously decided that getting married wouldn't ruin our relationship after all, and ran off to the nearest Justice of the Peace. So far so good. So good.

Happy anniversary, mister. Thank you for a life filled with the greatest fights, and continual reminders of how much we care.