February 17, 2009

oh, this day. the wind is blowing madly, and the rain which woke me up hours ago is still coming down. maya is with her papa, lucy is buried under blankets at the end of my bed, and here inside, it is quiet and empty and the walls are saturated with that yellow gray light that is a california rain storm.

i have been thinking a lot about love. thinking love and feeling love. i use the word a lot, and though i try and try to find some other descriptive about the deep joy i feel in parts of my life, i always come back to those four letters.

i am forty three years old, soon to be forty four. i have many friends who are older than me, and a gorgeous handful that are younger. my friends have always spanned a number of ages. now, in the years since maya came in to my life, shared circumstances, and the things that define us as we have found our loves, had children and settled in to a quieter life, have placed most of us together in similar moments of our middle life.

for me, here in the middle, there is what has been – painting and travel and education: a few lives lived in different cities on a different continent. there is language, and books read in winter, and a hundred meals shared in strange foreign restaurants. there have been a few big loves. i have fallen on icy cobblestone streets in quebec city and had water poured down the front of my shirt in a club in stockholm. there have been moments of lust, moments of longing, and the moment trudeau squirted me in the eye with lemon juice the first time we had lunch together at l’orchidee du chine, his favorite restaurant in montreal. there was a summer in toronto with a soul mate, and the twist of pain in my heart the first time he yelled at me inexplicably, a pattern forming until i had to leave months later, knowing i might be hurt.

there is signe, my twin, the friend one can imagine and hope for and dream of, until she is there with her golden eyes and kindness and her garden smell that recalls all those moments of a friendship that has now spanned decades. when we are lucky, we are together to bicycle to her favorite bar in amsterdam while niek is home with the kids, or here in a softer climate for barbeque and margaritas. recently, though not recently enough, there was the port-induced journey out of her house at three in the morning to buy cigarettes from the vending machine at the american hilton. getting yelled at when we tried to sneak back in to the house, signe and i laughing hysterically when i tripped up the stairs, being half of my thirty five years again for a few moments.

there is rick, our laughter, our house, our wedding, the birth of maya. letting go of jaxson, our gentle, beloved dog. letting go of our home, the one we renovated one room at a time, where our friends gathered, where rescued dogs came to live for a while, where i could stretch out in the bathtub and sing. the home we brought our newborn maya to. and finally, letting go of us. ten years of learning how to be together, and then the months and months of learning how to be apart, how to extricate ourselves from a life intertwined, how to be alone in the big bed (that at first seemed the size of a small country) without that feeling of loss in your stomach. And now, most importantly, regaining trust, parenting together with integrity, learning to be friends in a way that allows for growth, for forgiveness. for our love to be reshaped and redefined, as a space for new love is created.

which brings me to now. and love. i am filled with it. it spans an ocean to reach ruth and signe and javier. it drives north to bellefleur so i can sit in my sister’s living room and let everything drop for a while. it wraps itself around my heart in the moments i am lucky enough to be with my parents and realize how much they have worked for and given to me. love carries me through the moments when my grace falters and i am about to lose sight of my patience in raising my daughter. and it blooms over and over again like a brilliant flower every day as the people who share my life touch down, drink wine with me, make food, write poems, create beauty, wipe my tears and remind me that i can do this. and love sits, has coffee with me, makes me laugh, surprises me with its tenderness, compels me with its depth, makes me want to meet and be met. ah, if only love knew. i sit beside love, and wait.


5 Responses to “love.”

  1. tracey Says:

    love knows. which is why it keeps showing up.

    poetic post kl, as always. so enjoyed our morning together. thanks for coming.

    onward ho! love will always come along for the ride, if not at the helm…

  2. Farmer Gal Says:

    Beautiful. Touching. Encompassing.

    Your writing, that is.

    And love too.

  3. leslie Says:

    wow kerri-lynne, i am a TRUE fan of YOU!!

    xo leslie

  4. Sophia Says:

    Beautiful, my dear. Always makes me feel full to read your writing, or be with you.

  5. Ruth Says:

    I came to your site today…to read again, this post…which I have read once a week since you wrote it….
    (a soft encouragement sent you – to write more…now…we wait for the words of you…true and strong…and rooted …you have a gift)
    miss you and hope all is well in your world,
    ruthiemae in france….who loves you.

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