Wednesday, November 02, 2016

Zöe 1

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Dear Ryan,

I was sorry to hear about your stomach bug!  I hate those things!

I know you’re not feeling well and I don’t want to make you feel worse, but I have to tell you that yesterday came to an abrupt and crashing end.  For me and, well, for you, too, I guess.  Listen to me, sounding like I’m the one who’s feeling bad!  

I am, though, in my own way.  I so anticipated seeing you again.  It’s been a while.  Too long.  The day simply crept by and everybody seemed to be making such a fuss about the smallest things.  Like the coffee being two rich.  Who complains about coffee being too rich?  Then the accounting guy, Dwight, Dan or Dave or something looked at me like I was supposed to fix it.  I gave him The Stare until he started looking at his shoes.  You would have been proud of me.  Who knew rich coffee was a thing?

All day long my mind kept drifting to our “date.”  I couldn’t wait to tell you about Coffee Guy for a start and there was a lot that I wanted to share with you about work and not work, and things I’ve been thinking about.  I don’t know, it seems we never have enough time.

And then sometimes I’m happy not to say anything at all with you, just sit there, watch the clouds, do nothing - whatever.  I don’t feel like I have to be “on” all the time with you, know what I mean?  It’s easy being with you.  Easy.

Once when I was little I remember going to the beach and my brother convinced me to let him bury me in the sand.  I was little and he covered me up quickly, just mounding sand over me until just my face was showing.  I thought he was going to call Mom to take a picture but instead he poured a bucket of sand in my face.  I remember being shocked more than anything else that he would do such a thing.  I sat up and screamed for Mom.  He ran away but my parents punished him pretty good for what he did.  I wasn’t hurt or anything.  What I remember most was the feeling of the sand falling on my face.  Sometimes I have a dream where I’m trapped in an hourglass and I’m trying to stop the sand from falling but I can’t.

Whew!  I don’t know where that came from!  I’ve never told anyone that story, although I feel comfortable telling you.  You’re easy like that.  With you I don’t feel I need to do something in a certain way or pretend.  I can be me and you’re happy with that.

I guess that’s why last night was such a bummer … for both of us!  Your tummy and my heart.  Are we a mess, or what?

Anyway, I went downstairs early to wait for you and stood outside the hotel.  I used a trick I learned recently, to hold my cellphone to my ear like I’m on a call.  Most people won’t bother you and if they do you can shush them away with a, “I’m on a call - what’s the matter with you?” stare.  Turns out nobody was out there besides me.  I started to get that sinking feeling when you were late because you’re never late.  When I’m around you’re the first to show up and the last to leave.  Thought I hadn’t noticed, eh?  When I got your text I felt like a balloon with all the air out.  Deflated, sad, concerned, disappointed.  I skipped dinner and went to bed early.  It was a long day for both of us.  Listen to me, sounding like I’m ninety!

Hope you feel better soon.  We owe each other some quality time.  Later, OK?


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For sure.  Raincheck.

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