All is ice and cold and quiet on New Year’s Day here. Thinking of you, however, makes me feel a little more warm, like a blanket wrapped around my heart, wrapped around me putting out a burning hurt.
The first omen of the year was a little mole I saw crawl under the juniper bush on my front lawn. It moved like a tiny sock being pulled by a string. I could not see its feet or face. It was staying up late, like I was, before new year’s eve. I thought it should long ago have been hibernating, but after research, I discovered that they do not hibernate during winter, but to see one? For me it was a rare sight indeed, because they are very shy creatures and keep to the dark. Again, very much like me. As for the digging tunnels part, well, not like me.
I saw you crying in my dreams last night just like I cried at the ending of the year, as if it were the death of all friendships, the parting of all lovers, the ruin of all worlds… I know how moving on can be the happiest of sorrows to carry. Even if you mean to leave it behind you, it sticks to you, reminds you that home can’t be without you. I know the intimate, pounding blows and bruises left behind from the way missions, new relationships, wars, deaths, career changes, marriages, births, quests, wanderlust, and even love itself, can rip friends out of each others’ arms and scatter us away like lotus petals, or snow flakes, grains of sand, rice, or those little baby spiders who catch the wind with their gossamer threads… into realms beyond our shared adventuring. So why choose to rip and drift away and let the winds take you, change you, make you into someone I may never again recognize or know?
I wept in my dreams last night, longing to be rid of the jealousy. To rip away from the cold and ice and melt from the freezing pain of disappointments and cancellations, being told to wait, to hold back, and the loneliness all too close to me as your voice disappears into written lines. It would be wonderful to have a way leading me out of home into the world and be a part of things much more mountainous than myself. Perhaps then I would have a cure for my tears.
So many of you are out there somewhere. Flying, walking, moving, leaving, taking off, going everywhere but home. I seem to be the one standing still but I am not in a sea of stagnation. Yet I am reminded of the U2 song and really feel the lyric “nothing changes on New Year’s Day…” but also what radiates within me is Bono singing “i will be with you again” just like you would say it, like a prayer lulling me to sleep.
And when I talk about “you” it’s all of the you’s I know. Not just one friend, but the many friends I miss. I have many friends away from home. I am home. I am here. They are out there, over there, everywhere, anywhere but here. When I address you, it is you I am talking to reading this, not just the one you I miss.
Happy New Year. Here is your handkerchief. Let us dry our tears together and face the sun that just broke through the winter’s cloud. It’s already stinging into my eyes reflecting off the snow.
We will be together again. The little mole predicted early spring. It may not feel like it now, but it shall be a warm winter.