The Day Before May (Now Two Days Late)

This year, another year, whistles past like comet and streamer and bottle rocket, explosive and entertaining, a spectacle to behold in the midst of the claw along to build a better day-to-day. This year is the 35th year, consummated locally and unabashedly to the gusts of wind blowing in from the Western ocean, picnicking on long strips of tartan and throwing out arms while flinging frisbees through scent-laden pine needles amidst the remnants of Victorian gardens. Some of the best people I know ran and snapped, juggled and swilled, and it’s hard to imagine that everyone in the world doesn’t have such quality to set their own meters by, such gorgeous, talented souls who effortlessly create seemingly without trying. This is the first year in years I’ve remembered how to make a special moment to celebrate, rather than celebrating the whole every moment. It’s a slow down, a deep breath, and a care to the wind, and despite my life being split amongst two continents, I’ve rarely felt more whole. Not as fit as perhaps I should be, but impish and gleeful, thankful and warm inside…just in time for summer, it seems to be the summer of my life, this 35th year.

This prelude to the season, the bastard May, is always tent-staked with deadlines and ultimatums, and I like to pretend it’s my most productive month of the year, but really it’s my most procrastinatory and dreaded. At the end is the promise of calm, of time to do everything that needs doing, but we all know that’s just a mirage, for this is the pace of it, and we move along or fall to skinned knee. And even amidst the thousand commitments there is the inventory manager within, putting late nights into taking stock of just what I’m amounting to these days, though it seems like there’s nothing but kitten strokes, 1757, and the three horrific wings of Tempest Keep. There is some activity within, and instead of being wordy and hyperbolic I could just come out and say that I’m happy, I’m getting past the ghosts and finding my legs, putting life-rending fears to bed and trusting in the years of training and testing that I’ve been through. Occasionally words aren’t enough, despite them being all that we sometimes have, especially from afar. But sometimes they are enough, our words, and sometimes they are all we need to heal our biggest rends, over time and over distance.

Tomorrow, on the eve of the summer of my life, cygnoir shuttles her belongings across the city to Le Chateau and we start another chapter of Us together. It’s hard not to make light of this because of its gravity, because of the statistic-shattering chance that somehow we had the opportunity again, when we thought we had lost all opportunities. To know that all this love and joy and beauty was so near to being missed because of simple life choices is unfathomable, because I cannot imagine life without it now, and without her now. I’m a slow, methodical bull, never one to rush or jump without hoofing each blade of grass and pill-bug worming its way through dirt-clot and flower stem. So it’s no surprise that this decision carries some ferocious measure of deep commitment, the same that I’ve put into everything I’ve ever done. Last night, then, was our last night apart.

There are gargantuan volumes in each day, and my biggest failure, the biggest one of all, is to forget committing these pages to memory so that in some measured time from now – tomorrow or next week or five decades away – I can sit in a room with white walls and white noise and pore over each and every one again and again. But it will happen. An entire second life of all the gorgeousness and horror that we’ve wrought over the years…you and I, she and I, us. Every us we’ve ever known will be there and come flooding back, and we can examine them with microscope and white coat, laughing and crying at the same time, thrilled that we had the opportunity to do this. Whatever the season of life, this is the reason to take notes. There will be no test at the end, but other people will be studying from our scribbles in the margin.

7 Responses to “The Day Before May (Now Two Days Late)”

  1. scotis_man Says:
    May 2nd, 2008 at 10:06 am

    Happy belated birthday, my dear friend.
    A part of me is happier, knowing of your happiness. 🙂

  2. psymbiotic Says:
    May 2nd, 2008 at 11:54 am

    Happy Belated Birthday as well, good sir! :>
    Egan

  3. ohjolielaide Says:
    May 2nd, 2008 at 2:57 pm

    So happy for you guys! Here's to new chapters and new adventures. You've been having a lot of good ones lately.

  4. alison_ella Says:
    May 2nd, 2008 at 4:15 pm

    Pleased to hear about happy times.
    Hope all stays well
    XXXX

  5. catness Says:
    May 2nd, 2008 at 7:40 pm

    Always with the beauty and the love. 🙂
    Happy May and future times.

  6. blu_matt Says:
    May 3rd, 2008 at 2:20 am

    (Belatedly) wishing you the happiest of happy on your day my good transatlantic chum! 🙂 xxx

  7. peasweet13 Says:
    May 3rd, 2008 at 11:08 pm

    Happiest of late birthday wishes, my dear friend
    You know that we love you and that you are always in our hearts. I am glad beyond measure that you have found real happiness and love. Wolf and I celebrate our 10 year wedding anniversary in July and we just passed our 16th year being together and I tell you, I love him more and more every day. He still rocks my world. Life gets in the way sometimes and you just have to remember to shove it aside and keep a firm hold on the really good stuff. Happy Birthday, Mr. Layne. Much love to you….

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