the feeling's mutual.

It seems silly really. Only two days have expired since I saw her last. And yet, all morning I've been anxious to see her. All day I've been waiting to get to five o clock when I was due to arrive. I duly distracted myself, and when 4:30 came I turned into a frenzy and considered taking cabs and had to get there as soon as possible. I wondered about the fastest routes, sighed over a laboring North ave bus until finally when I got off the bus I felt relaxed and excited.

I walked up the steps and peered into the window. She wasn't there. She must be having dinner. My heart fell. I entered and greeted her father and sister who invited me to watch television with them but I wanted nothing more than to burst through the door and interrupt her supper so I could see her little face.

Finally, she realized I was here. She heard the door open, she heard my voice. She wouldn't take any more food, she wanted to see me. They said it was alright so I opened the door. She looked up and seemed to take a while to fully recognize me. Then she immediately wanted out, and I was so happy. I picked her up and she was happy to be in my arms. She made noises that I mimicked, then we laughed. And then she sweetly let her head rest on my shoulder and held me, and I have never been so loved by a child in all of my experiences.

She raised her head and looked up at me, and patted my chest and I patted hers and said, "Squish (my nickname for her)."

And then it was back to nestling on my shoulder and I could not have been happier. And strangely, she could not have been happier.

I have always loved the children I cared for to some degree, some more than others, and some liked me too, but none has loved me the way she does. And I have never loved a kid this much.

Before, to get me here on a daily basis, I was disgruntled. I was put out. I was annoyed. Now, I cannot stand to miss a day, to not see her. I have often come by just to visit on my day off. Sometimes I go out of my way to see her even though I will see her the next day.

When I have to share myself with her sister, I am frustrated. Her sister, who once fascinated me with her ways, now annoys me supremely. I had a similar beginning with her sister, but it was far less joyous. As a baby, she was a big heavy blob that watched the world in dour earnestness. She began to loosen up a little when she walked and talked, but that was almost seven months after I'd been taking care of her. She was a terribly boring baby, one that I felt needed a lot of prodding to make sure she developed normally.

Six months with the Squish have been unparalled. She is very observant, but she is also playful, cheerful, focused but also open to things. If she wants something she will get it, no matter what. She will make you get it for her if she can't reach it herself. With no words and just the flailing of her arms and her annoyed noises, I can usually figure out what it is, but if I can't, I can usually distract her with something else.

I've always said that I've had my fair share of child rearing, almost to the point that if I somehow didn't have children, I wouldn't feel as if I missed much. I had no idea these little beings could love you back before they reach the age where they learn how to love. I had no idea that they could show love before that age where they use it against you.

I had no idea that I could feel that kind of love for a baby that wasn't mine. I panic when I don't hear her breathing on the monitor, I once woke her from a nap because I peeked in and she was sleeping on her stomach, today when she was taken away from me for bed, she cried and a part of me wanted to cry too.

"Bite me like that...."

Just when I thought I had it under control or somehow tricked myself into believing that my feelings had dissipated, they've taken hold of me again.

It was just as innocent as always, a smile here, a teasing there, an observation made.

Then it was the banter. Heavy, suspicious, secret, it keeps out even the most demanding about us and there is no one but us in those moments.

Then it was one move. It was a yoga move. It was a sudden proof that he could do anything I asked of him. And he planted his palms on the floor and shifted his weight onto his forearms and he turned into a crow.

I retaliated by ignoring him, and turned my attentions away. His teasing searched for me and I was so easily swayed. I began looking forward to spending time with him, I'd abandon everything just to spend a few minutes alone with him. I'd brighten when he arrived and gloom over when he departed.

And now he has found another way to torment me, another layer to add to the mix, another sense to evoke. He has begun to wear a cologne that is the most perfect mix I've ever smelled. It is not too much of any one thing: a musk, a sweet, a bitter, a citrus. It is very subtle and soft, almost like something that would suit an older man.

And there in the smelling of it and him mingling was my near demise, I let my eyes close and my nostrils flared and I swooned a bit and I worry that someone saw. It feels like a matter of time before the shatter happens.

reality check

Given that everywhere I go I seem to know someone, it didn't surprise me that his face felt familiar. Boyish, clean cut, cute even, as soon as I heard his voice I was certain I knew him.

It only took a couple minutes for the memories to bubble up...he was a friend of a friend, it was years ago, we shared only a moment at his halloween party.

Back then, he was in improv, and I remember him being one of the rare good performers I saw, so I asked him if he was performing somewhere.

He faltered. His face shrank a little. He said no. He started to say why, what the reason was, and then, in a spark of honesty that impacted me like a natural disaster, he said he was just too lazy.

The news was doubly horrific because we were customers, at his table, he was our waiter and we were at Ed Debevic's.

There is nothing worse than being reminded that the thing you love to do is a phantom that you have abandoned by a stranger while you are at work. Well, maybe there are worse things, but that is pretty bad. This happened to me for a six year period of my life when I wasn't doing any writing and it is the sort of red hot raw embarrassment that makes your skin crawl. I can't imagine being found out in Ed Debevic's of all places.

He carried on with the routine--which, oddly enough is kind of like performing--and all was well.

At the end of our meal he brought us our bill. He stood in front of us and wrote on it while teasing us and for an agonizing moment, I was so sure that he was writing down his phone number, I was so hoping that he wrote down his phone number that I was shocked when I saw the words "Smell ya later!"

Part of me was relieved. I couldn't really call him anyway. Not now. Not anymore. Not now that things with Eric are back to some kind of normal. Still, there was something so tragic in his complete honesty that made me want to pick him up and love him. He was a great performer. It's too bad that he's not doing it anymore. He's not my mess to clean up.

a lesson on being harsh.

It is one thing to let relationships become houseplants that wither and die. Of course, you had the best of intentions. You meant to water them. You wanted to get them enough sunlight. You hoped they'd revive themselves after your neglect was apparent and if they don't...well, it's not like you really cared, cause if you did, you would have done something to keep that from happening.

It is quite another thing to cut someone off from you. Having never done this before, I find that it feels harsh. I feel like a bad person. I am sensitive and being sensitive is hard.

Two people who have been very difficult for me to be around both asked me to get over it and stop behaving like they did something wrong. I told both of them that I didn't want to speak to them any longer. Now they suddenly want my friendship back. One was the very person who drove me to find this new blog address. The other is a friend from a long time ago who I recently wrote about. As I put it somewhere, she demanded everything I had, then took my heart out and stomped on it and asked for more.

I had different things to say to them. To him I was cold. Very cold. I told him there was no point in being friends. He would simply invade my life in ways that would slowly spiral out of control and I would be embarrassed and unduly stressed and there would be no one to blame but me because this has already happened before.

To her I was slightly kinder, but not much. I used words that had been used on me, to cut me free from a friend, to give her space from me. In a way, I see the reasons she had clearer now; I understand why she did that. And so, I borrowed her words and gave them to that supposed friend.

Neither responded. Perhaps they could see that I was not going to relent. I can be very extreme sometimes. My words were very cold. They both pushed me too far and if I actually acted like everything was okay and I could just pretend to be their friend again, I would hate myself.

The only person who has survived this sort of emotional fallout has been him, the love of my lifetime, Eric. No matter how many times I swear to myself that I will never look at his face or hear his voice or feel his touch, I always relent.

I want so much to be a good person and a good friend but I find that it requires a lot of my time and energy and frankly, it is difficult to maintain. I would much rather read, knit, or write than muster up the enthusiasm some people seem to want so badly.

As I contemplate being mean to those two, I realize that nothing could make me return to those times when I loathed seeing their phone calls, or answering their texts, when we spent time together and I felt like I was watching a reality tv show I couldn't turn off, or especially when I had something to say and it went completely unheard.

funny you should say that

I miss this too.

I'm not sure why exactly, but the words wouldn't come. I would sit here, I would wait and nothing. I would think about writing here and nothing. I was busy. I was without internet. I was living.

I miss my dad. Him not being here means I am adrift, floating in the waters of my mind with no anchor. He has been here, in the various forms of here, for years. He has read every word I've written. And now, he does not.

I am holding my breath until the word comes from Iowa. I did all I can do, however badly it went, it's done now. More waiting.

I have been snake charmed.

I have been disappointed.

I find myself back in love with him and it makes me hurt.

I have been doing the other kind of writing, which dries me up.

I am still all the things you might remember about me, but I am being reduced into a compact shape. Don't forget who I was.

I am tired of noticing everyone else's life going somewhere and having mine be stuck.