I was too busy to write — which saddens me, and the moment is gone, my wedding — so beautiful and perfect and fun, my dream, just as I wanted it, and my unexpected nervousness and everyone there.
I really can’t describe how amazing it was, the whole weekend in my favorite place in the world. Mike is my husband, and I will hold him like an oak barrel holds wine and we will love this life together.
Mike and I move in less than 2 weeks, so that’s my project for this week and next. Then I go to Paris. Then I’m in Austin for a week or 2 and then I have to go to Mily/Chicago for Becky & Josie’s bachelorette parties. It’s a busy summer, and then, hopefully, in August I can write and submit poems until school begins and I have to start thinking about teaching again. It’s going to go by fast as it always does.
Afternoon. Laziness. Out the window, the wind sways the trees. I think of you. Wonder if you even know I’m married. How would you know? Do you sense it? Will I ever see you again? Eight years, ten, and then nothing.
Sunlight on the leaves, if you were there, in my backyard, by the fence, waiting. It cannot happen. I let go. I let her have you. I did not fight. I must not have loved you as much as I claimed to.
Life is not what we think it will be. It breaks you and rebuilds you into someone you no longer life, someone passionless and uneventful.
Writing goals for spring semester — I promised I would write in here more, daily. Inspiration for poems.
I want to remember the dog hurling toward us, ahead of a truck, the Oh-God feeling that he was coming to attack us, that he was twice the size of you, and I’d witness yet another dog fight. But then I realized, its owner was following in a pick-up truck. This bizarre way to “walk” one’s dog, and the relief felt when it hit us, and just kept running.
Life with Mike is good. We cook together, take walks, share each other’s separate lives. I still don’t feel married in some ways. Life is simple and easy with him. We don’t fight.
I just moved all my posts over here to try to connect to other bloggers more. I’m blogging 30 years of journal writing as I work on a memoir about love, loss, and letting go. If that sounds interesting to you, follow me because I’d love to follow you.
Here is my first post (originally published 2/27/83):
On February 27, 1983 — a week shy of my seventh birthday — I started my first journal, a lock-and-key diary of the Little Twin Stars from the Hello Kitty series. Even with the lock, my younger sister still found her way into its pages, but her snooping never stopped my writing.
Now – five days shy of my 37th birthday — I begin my 18th journal.
Here’s the catch: Instead of revealing my entries chronologically from 1983 to now, I’m telling my story in reverse order, beginning today as an almost 37-year-old teacher/writer with a husband and two sons. Each day, I will release a new (old) journal entry until I get to that memorable day on Feb. 27 in 1983 when something significant happened in my seven-year-old world — something diary-worthy.
So began my journey as a writer. How did I get here? Read my journals — backward — and find out!
NOTE: I am now on 2007, so there is plenty of back material to read. Hope you stay awhile!
Reading Eat Pray Love. Wanted to see what all the hype is about. Wondering why I’m so against the idea of God when I grew up believing more than anything. My notion of God has changed — all that religion has become in this country. My own husband of a different faith.
Another holiday season behind us. On my way back from Chicago. Was in Mily for 3 days. Saw Mary, Flo, Kath & Katie & cousin Ann. Josie told us she’s pregnant. This time next year, I’ll be an aunt. Thinking of moving back to Chicago in 6 months is both exciting and scary. Where will we live? What job will Mike find? How will like in Chicago help/hurt our marriage? Kids?