Reminiscing with poet girlfriend this morning at the coffee shop about a mutual lost friend we miss keenly. As I drove home fleecy memories drifted into my mind and I began to think about our lives in Connecticut before we came to the southwest. Several days ago I'd begun to sort papers and photos and as I resumed today, things turned up that fit this mood.
a different life
We actually had friends and a social life in those days and everyone was going through a mid-life crisis. We were all on second marriages or new relationships, our kids were growing up, and we discussed endlessly all the things we wanted to be when we grew up. We were a conglomeration of professors, administrators, managers, who longed to be writers and artists (remember that real estate novelist in the Billy Joel song?). Friends showed up on weekends for dinner and ended up in Ron's studio smoking cigarettes, listening to music, drinking wine, talking. Eventually he set up a large canvas with lots of brushes and paint, and invited anyone so inclined to play. Free form, no rules except one - they had to wear a hat from his ragtag collection. In the photo above there is a bowler, the red felt hat that still exists, and a cap from Communist China with a red plastic star on the front. At some point he put together a huge fun collage from pieces of those chaotic canvases and today as I sorted, I found a forgotten manila envelope containing the few bits I'd saved when we moved.
so?
Everyone did manage to change their lives and pursue what they most wanted. The couple in the photo on either side of Ron live in France now, we are here, and others moved to places as different from each other as upper New York State and Atlanta. One died. One entered a new relationship. Did we fulfill our dreams? I can't speak for anyone else. I know we're still plugging away and after all this time are contemplating the next phase; how do we want to live the years left to us? I guess the nature of humans is longing. An anonymous Buddhist monk said patience is the ability to end our expectations - but do we really want that?
What is life without someone who can pour light into a spoon, then raise it to nourish our beautiful, parched, holy mouth (Rumi),
