I've been trying to blog for a little while now, and I have pages and notes and...well, much unfinished business. Something happened recently, and - wait, let me retract that - a lot of things have been happening lately, and I think it's all good. It's the one thing that's a little confusing to me, so indulge me for a moment here. I'm putting myself out on the beach to ask the ocean a few questions.
The sea quietly hisses and churns, performing it's little chore on the sand, smoothing it out here and there but otherwise remaining quiet and reflective. Not knowing what to ask, I look down and pick up a little black rock.
C: Want to talk about it?
S: Okay, when I said sea, I meant sea and not "c".
C: Women are weird like that, aren't we? We hear what you say but understand what it is you really mean.
S: This is a beautiful little rock, isn't it?
C: Yeah it is...I like how it sparkles. Look at the little lines that go around it. Nature has the whole world for a canvas.
S: I know this rock.
C: What, intimately? Do you...want to be left alone to catch up? Wait - were you in a band together? A rock -
S: I know it. I recognize it. It's a little older than it used to be, but...it's beautiful. Those lines you like....
C: Yeah...
S: They're carved in there by experience, by being rolled around against things, into things. It doesn't look the way I remember it, but it's the same one. I know this little rock from all the others.
C: She's gone again, isn't she?
S: Yeah. It's almost as if I just imagined the conversation.
C: It's weird. I'm with you - I don't understand it.
S: It's because you're with me on this that you don't understand it. I think I'm...well, I keep saying I'm different, but I'm assuming it's true. This conversation is taking place, so right there you have an argument for....
C: And you know what I really don't get? It's always an abrupt departure, right in the middle of a conversation.
S: You're looking at it the wrong way. It's all one long conversation with three year gaps for every two topics of conversation. I thought that was obvious.
C: No, it's not.
S: It's a matter of perception. I think that after we talk about it here, I'll feel good enough to leave it alone for a while.
C: Do you know what your problem is? (pause) You have a great memory.
S: That's really interesting, Christy! Some people would say that's a good thing to have. How is having a good memory bad for things like wisdom and experience?
C: Tell me five things you remember about her.
S: Easy. Her favorite movie is Sound of Music. She loves Lucky Charms. The song that was playing the first night we kissed was "Space Oddity", by David Bowie. We once slow danced in a parking lot to "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes". I once stood on a balcony with her overlooking Hollywood, and I heard her think "I love you".
C: How many times do you think about those things?
S: Every time I see the Sound of Music...whenever I see Lucky Charms in the store...every time I hear "Space Oddity". I just identify those things with her, though. Are you trying to say that I hold those memories too close to the surface?
C: I'm not saying anything, really...
S: I can tell you five things about anyone who has seriously influenced my life. I have a million things that I identify with people and experiences.
C: But there's one thing you don't have.
S: Don't pick up where she left off. It's not important.
C: I'm playing Devil's advocate here!
S: Look at this rock.
C: The one you know?
S: Look at it!
C: Okay! I'm looking at it.
S: This is what she wants me to do with her!
I throw it out into the ocean and it disappears in the night sky before it even has a chance to fall in.
S: Here's something you're not seeing. Out of all these rocks, I picked that one. I held it in my hand, admired it, and loved its beauty. We had a moment in time together because I was meant to pick that rock and it showed me its beautiful flaws.
C: You're sounding...idealistic, I think.
S: But I threw it out there, respecting her wishes and abandoning anything I wanted. I threw it out into the unknown, losing it to the ocean. Do you think it worries me?
C: Honestly, no.
S: Right - because I know that I'll keep walking, and I'll see things that remind me of it...the lines, the shape, the feeling in my hand. That's something...private...something I put away in a quiet place in my mind...and the most unusual thing happens.
C: What thing is that?
S: The ocean keeps bringing the rock back. It's not something I ask for, not even something I expect. It just happens.
C: ...and then in mid-conversation, she disappears. (pause) I know it's hard to place, or to understand...and I honestly don't think you're putting more importance on it than you should. This is just a part of who you are.
S: That's easy for you to say.
C: Well, you typed it.
S: Yeah. Well, on to the next thing. This is why I love being busy. It's time to go play again.
C: The play is the thing, isn't it?
The ocean cleans up after us, erasing our footsteps and leaving pristine, flat sand. I don't even need to turn around to see the rock rolling back onshore, but I always...
...I always feel her there, somewhere, with those brown eyes looking out at the ocean when I'm not there. Are both of us looking for answers neither of us can find? I think so. It's part of what my life is made of.
