May everyone find the kind of comfort you always find in ice cream.
Either you’re already asleep, or my last few weeks’ of insomnia has been contagious.
I did nothing today, so I promised myself I’d do something tonight. Writing comes a little harder than usual these days, but it’s a special day, though regrettably, I am not around to help make it all the more special for you.
It’s this distance. This distance that, for years, we’ve tried to compensate for: voices that try to talk about the day (for what it’s worth on my part, as I doubt anything can be more exciting than listening to someone talk about how they’re only halfway through the taxation law coverage), pictures of the food, of the cats and dogs. My God, the cats and dogs. Enough cats and dogs to turn anyone into a blubbering “doggo doin a boop catto doin a mlem” of a person (who minds, though).
But of course, we keep at it, this routine: sometimes infinitesimal in what changed within a given day, sometimes going on random shenanigans just to shake off those emotional cobwebs that drudgery tends to leave to gather dust over several weeks. A movie there, a buffet there, retail therapy, therapy sessions, baking a batch for spreading joy and shaking off others’ cobwebs.
And (perhaps the most importantly), we grow. I’ve always had this notion that I never wanted someone which my world would turn around, a sun in the system; rather, I wanted someone who would sit with me and watch the world turn, a fellow planet. Circumstances have forced us apart, but I feel like the fortunate consequence of all this is all the space we have: to pull our own moons together, to orbit along our paths of least resistance. Progress, while a straight line, isn’t prevented from also having its cycles anyway.
And maybe, just maybe, we’ll grow so big that not even this distance will keep us apart. Or at least, we’ll have grown enough (and this I see whenever we have our precious alignments) to make gravity pull us towards each other, eudaimonae who are whole apart but fuller than whole together, rather than incomplete when apart and wholly dependent on the other’s light just for life to exist on their skin.
Until then, let’s keep growing, but work off the carbs and sugar every once in a while.
I love you, dear. Happy Birthday.