I wonder


jeudi, le 24 décembre 2009

Last night I sat outside under the palm where L’homme used to sit for hours. I wondered where he was, I wondered what he was thinking, I wondered what he used to think all those hours he spent sitting under the palm.

I burst into tears because, in spite of everything, I missed L’homme, because I was sad for My Witty Friend, I was sad for The Jeweller - her mother passed away the day we held a memorial service for My Witty Friend’s husband. The Jeweller didn’t make it back in time to see her mother one last time. She passed away while they were at the airport.

Then I reminded myself that there is no point in being sad over L’homme. He never really cared, he lacked compassion, he lacked understanding and more than anything, he lacked the ability to commit to our relationship through thick and thin. When not even the alcohol could compensate for all the lacking, he turned nasty, mean and malicious.

I sighed, I wiped my tears, I looked up at the stars, I sent comforting, supportive whishes to My Witty Friend and The Jeweller, I went inside, I put on some happy music and started to make my house pretty for Christmas Eve dinner.


(The story in the photograph: The Princess,to my absolute delight, loved the beach. I wonder what she was thinking as she stared out over the largest body of water she had ever seen.)

I’m back


lundi, le 21 décembre 2009

I spent much more time with My Witty Friend than I originally thought I would. I thought I’d go down for a week or two. Alas, seven weeks later, The Princess and I made our way back home again.

I didn’t blog because I didn’t want to. I told blog stories in my head every day. I didn’t blog because I didn’t really have the time and because I was confronted with experiences and emotions that I needed to internalise, to sift through and to make my own before I could share them.

And then, when I was on my way home, L’homme, with his usual inimitable timing, upset my entire little apple cart. I am truly aghast at this man’s total lack of compassion, of caring, his boundless stupidity. With one phone call he eradicated all the kindness and tenderness and forgiveness I had honed towards him. And he replaced it with anger.

I can’t unreservedly say that I am pleased to be back in the city where I live, but I am pleased to slowly but surely find my rhythm again.

Having booked a trip to my beloved Paris helps me to deal with my anger towards L’homme and is a good incentive to get the rhythm going.

(Some music musings: Driving down to My Witty Friend, I couldn’t get my iPod to work. Thankfully I had grabbed all of about three CD’s as I flew out the door. I spent hours listening to the obligatory ’Sympathique' and to Dylan’s Together Through Life. Many a day when The Princess and I walked along the beautiful mountain paths, the opening lines of one of my favourite ditzy songs on this CD, found their way into my head:

I get the blues for you baby when I look up at the sun
I get the blues for you baby when I look up at the sun
Come back here, we can have some real fun

Well it’s early in the evening and everything is still
Well it’s early in the evening and everything is still
One more time, I’m walking up on heartbreak hill
~Bob Dylan : Shake shake mama


(The story in the photograph: The Princess is dumbfounded that grass can grow so tall in just over seven weeks. She’s wondering whether she possibly shrunk!)