Friday,
August 02, 2013
10:11
pm
It’s
taken just 29 hours of being in the house in the mountains, alone for the first
time in such a long time, that I’m taken back to my single days. My days which at present were my best.
Added
to the mix is Diana Krall on the stereo, one glass of a fine cabernet (having
sat in the pantry waiting for me for some time now) already down, and the
sounds of crickets and a passing train a long ways away. To go is a cup of tortilla soup and a second
glass of wine. I’m already walking on my
tiptoes. Feeling feminine. Sitting with my legs crossed while lounging
back in a club chair and sipping my wine.
Enjoying each syllable, every cadence of MY music.
How
can I get back here? This is home. This is where I belong. This is where I should have stayed. This is where I should have remained.
Cathartic. Soulful.
Drowns out the dystopia of the world. The only sounds I can hear are
pleasing ones. Ones that make me feel
feminine. Like a prize that has been
passed up. Like an overlooked shell on a
beach. Like the perfect leaf that has
fallen from the tree in a forest where no one will ever find me.
How
will I ever leave this? Why did I ever
leave this?
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