dear husband-to-be,

i've been thinking of you lately. and missing you. and wondering if it's possible to miss someone you've never met.

if there is such a thing as past lives then i must know you. and missing you makes perfect sense.*

sometimes i'm so thankful that you don't know me right now. that you weren't there for the dark period. that you don't know this ugliness in me.**

and then other times i know that this ugliness is not an ugliness at all. and it's shaping the woman you'll one day marry and i want you to be here for it. because it's important. and defining. and because you'll help me. you'll help me heal.

as a child i hated to dream. the dreams were either bad: nightmares. or disappointing: i'd wake to find they hadn't actually happened. no good came of night-time dreaming.

but last night i dreamt of you. i dreamt of you and it was good. and what i remember--what i remember more than anything else--even more than the butterflies in my stomach--i remember fitting into the crook of your arm. literally and metaphorically. and nestled there i knew i was home.

and so when i woke this morning i was anything but disappointed. you're near. i feel you near. come closer.

i miss you. come back to me,

your wife-from-countless-other-lives-before-this-one

*the thing about past lives (in my limited understanding) is that all your lives are populated by many of the same people. the people may take on many different forms, but their energy--their spirit or soul--is the same. so your husband in one life may very well be your husband in 80% of your other lives.

**this ugliness in me...well, that's ned. if you're confused as to who ned is look to my sidebar. and there you'll find many a link which will help clarify this grotesque and mystical creature.

for my mom

oh to one day have the words that give thanks enough for the life and love my mother has given me.

for now, this will have to do: 

i love you mom. i love you so much. 

happy mother's day.

ps: in case you didn't realize, 

the woman on my blog header...that's my mom.

we're having a real life thunderstorm here in nyc

my absolute favorite kind of weather.

and seeing as how i can count my nyc thunderstorms on one hand (in part because i've never really spent my summer's here) i'm loving this.

usually rain calls for edith piaf and a little dancing.

but today i'm enjoying Coeur de pirate (i read about her fabulous french pop on one of your blogs and now i'm at a loss for which one--remind me, will you?!), cleaning, and getting ready for work...oh how can i got to work when the weather is this perfect? 

ps: there is a soap star who lives on my block. i always see him in pajama bottoms. pajama bottoms. all hours of the day. hmmmm.

image via a cup of jo (paris in the rain)

babysitting has its perks

yesterday, while babysitting, liam helped me make a card for my mom (and now official facebook friend) in honor of mother's day.

and then last night i got the following email from his mom:

subject: you forgot your jacket

and liam confessed before falling asleep "i love meg"

my heart swooned.

once more.

today i awoke to a miracle.

the city was a revelation.

bathed in green. swathed in new light.

i stood on the corner of 77th and columbus and was lost. i'd gone too far. not far enough. where was i?

i looked up. 77th. columbus. no, this is right. and then i realized:

green. a canopy of green above. and with that, everything looked different. altered. the usual no more.

the city is a brand new playground. these corners and pockets that i know so well have changed and are beckoning me forth to explore. mapped and charted territory in need of new delineations.

suddenly, the usually banal cross town bus trip is like burrowing through the center of the rain forest. it doesn't last too long. but it's a glorious explosion of lushness in the gathered bouquet of skyscrapers and tenements that is new york.

new york is new again. new to me. and i could fall in love once more.

we forget, you know. there are times that our memories trail so close behind--clicking at our heels. and so we forget. trees lose their leaves. and then they find them again. of course. how could i forget this?

barren arms reaching to the sky. and then an answered prayer. blooms and buds. and flowers and leaves. cyclical. life is cyclical. and so the word barren is not right. trees are not barren. they are never without. they are in transition. life takes on new form.

i am not without. i am in transition. and soon a prayer will be answered and i will bloom and open. and i will be the same but altered. and i will get to explore this new me who was here all along. and the cycle will repeat.

the trees sang me a song this morning and my ears are alight with their hum.