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AMBER

11/20/2016

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     It's funny, the further I get from having a relationship, the further I get from wanting a relationship. Recently, I told a former boyfriend I was not interested in playing the role of long-lost girlfriend. It's actually an odd phenomenon, and has happened much too often - an old lover returns to see if I'm interested in renewing our dead relationship. Sorry. No. Lessons learned, and all that. It's happened five times. (And I like to say I've only had three serious relationships.) The oddest case happened twelve years ago when one of my first New York boyfriends showed up in California needing to "get closure." Closure! I was 19 when we broke up and 52 when he showed up. Holy Cow, and I thought I hung onto grudges! Things change, we change, and I'm grateful for both. The fact that I am remembered in my former state like a bug in amber, tells me just how little those men saw me as a living, growing, ever-evolving human being. I rate as an object from their past. Goodbye to that. Ironically, amber is my favorite stone - golden, gorgeous and terrifyingly (for the bug) petrified. Yes, we can look back with love, and remember shared history fondly... but, oh baby, it will never be liquid again.  

     At this point, I question whether I could fall in love. Could I blend my life with another? It seems doubtful. Maybe I am petrified, after all! Anyway, I'm in the midst of taking care of my own present-day life, and much too busy to contemplate the intricacies of male/female machinations.

     Happily, I'm in the midst of refinancing my little townhouse, and putting in new carpets. Hurray! Quality is important, since it will have to do until I am done. (I'm giving myself another 30+ years.) Each morning, I sit on my sofa in the living room, drinking coffee and drinking in the pleasure of having provided such a lovely home for myself ... feeling slightly smug and self-satisfied. Sure, it would have been a lot easier for me and my daughters if I had grabbed some guy by the collar and combined our assets. My daughters might have been able to afford college. Oh, well. <sigh> They are pursuing their own stars now, sans a university education. Hey, I went back to college at age 40. It can be done. There's no guarantee, but I hope they learned to respect my grit over the years. I've done my best, and I've done alright. God knows, I wasn't always the best mother. My younger daughter, especially, had a rough time of it. But I did what seemed best in each moment, and I did it alone. It would have been easier to navigate the rough spots with a loving partner back then, but at this point, love for its own sake seems moot. I can only shrug and await whatever comes next. My doors and windows are open to the future. A sweet breeze flows through. The past sits, lovely and still, in amber. 

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