Hi, what are you up to? I text Tom on a Monday. Working late, he responds, as he does sometimes.
Another friend who occasionally claims to enjoy my company said he’d be in town Monday evening. Hi, wanna meet for a drink after my assisting gig? I text him. Sorry, no, he replies, I’ll be too far still.
And so I stop by a store, have a snack alone, go home alone, go to bed alone. Except I am not. Continue reading “Monday Evening Company”
When we chatted last week, I hesitated to ask you a favor.
The favor was for you to write to me once or twice. I hesitated, because I wasn’t sure how well that would serve either of us, and because the time for asking favors ran out. If I were to do what I hesitated to ask of you, it would go like this. Continue reading “A Monday Letter”
There may be a day some time in the future when I no longer care about you. The familiar feeling of your embrace would be like a memory of a good book I’ve read, or a movie I’ve seen. Like a memory of my hand in David’s in the Azalea Garden, in June of 2007. So what if I remember the month and year, I am good with calendars, that’s all. It might have been May, too. When do the azaleas bloom? It was a Tuesday.
About you, I’ll remember there were Mondays. Continue reading “Mondays”