I walked half of the South Jetty with my dear friend, L today. I am not used to her pace, nor she mine. I am not a meanderer, but my gate is longer and more fluid... and I walk slower. I suppose part of it was nearly 15 years of walking with a photographer who was a foot taller then I. The walk, while nice (and chilly) felt out of step.
Add to that, the South Jetty was littered with a whole mess of logs and natural debris. This is my heart right now. I'm a mess. The scab pulling has affected me so much more than I expected. I suppose it is because I have a lot of baggage - this week is only 8 months. Maybe my cautious friend is right to back away slowly. Though there are a many reasons one does not want to get involved again, it still hurt to find out after weeks of patient and kind attention one isn't the object of affection. My friend L is impatient with me to move on, to be open to something or someone better. The truth is, I've got a few things to work out, and in my secret heart, I want him to realize that he is wrong and come calling. I don't think this likely, but it is still my wish.
It will be awhile yet before I am wholy myself. I won't stop living, nor stop enjoying things in my life, but I will cry over this loss too. Loss of potential, loss of a hope, loss of a maybe friend.
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