Grant came by again. This time he brought with him a photograph of a young man. Tall and blond with blue eyes so clear they make me ache. After handing me this blessing, my friend left me alone again.
He didn't need to tell me who the picture was of, nor did he stay to see how I would react. He understood, and gave me this time to find myself once more.
The blue eyes are like my own, like my father's, like my grandfather's. The wavy blond hair is so like like his mother's hair as is his fair conplexion. But he has my height. I can see that even in the photo.
My son.
The picture shows him with a group of people in front of a new home. The earth is still raw and the paint fairly glitters with its newness. The people around him, they all look so happy and... I don't know how to explain it. They are together, a family. My son is among them but unlike the others, he is touching no one. There is a barely visible space around him, that I know much about. The others will be his clan, those wolves who he calls family. But he is not one of them.
He will never be one of them.
My son, so like me and yet so very different from...everyone else.
I can't wait until Jolyn returns so that I can share this with her. Perhaps it is time she and I talked about the rest of her kin. She deserves to know them or at least know of them.
J
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
I hate the cold
Jolyn swears the cave is the same temperature now as it was last August, but the freezing marrow of my bones says differently. About this time every year I have the urge to move somewhere warm or better yet, hot. But of course that isn't possible.
The best I can manage is to think back to those days when I was able to travel, when on a whim I could head for the beach or better yet the Egyptian desert. Egypt was the first place on the mortal realm that I saw and to this day those burning sands have left a lasting impression. I wonder if Grant ever visits the homeland of his father? Perhaps he and I can talk about it next time he visits.
Or perhaps not. He hasn't come back since Sam caught him sneaking around my cave. How odd is it that I actually want to have some company? Maybe that is because Jolyn has been spending more and more time away from the cave. As nice as Sam is to be here with me, I yearn for something more, some contact that I'm missing.
It shouldn't be such a mystery. For centuries I have been here, trapped with myself for companionship. Well, I make piss poor company even for myself. Once Jolyn came, I began to realize how much of my life was empty.
Being alone was not a comfort. Being alone sucks.
The music and TV do not make up for the quiet in my heart. I long for the simple contact of holding hands, or sitting close. That isn't something that Jolyn and I share, not even in the sense of father and daughter. Between us there is little touching.
What I miss is that illusive emotion called love. Vinola. She and I touched all the time from the first moment we met. It was more than lust that flared between us. It was love even before we were brave enough to call it such. Losing her left me cold and dead inside. Still I long for even a shadow of that warmth. Perhaps someday there will be another in my life that will want to hold my hand and sit close.
Perhaps Sam and I will watch Lakehouse again. The distance between those lovers was as poignant as can be and yet there is always hope. Enough rambling.
J
The best I can manage is to think back to those days when I was able to travel, when on a whim I could head for the beach or better yet the Egyptian desert. Egypt was the first place on the mortal realm that I saw and to this day those burning sands have left a lasting impression. I wonder if Grant ever visits the homeland of his father? Perhaps he and I can talk about it next time he visits.
Or perhaps not. He hasn't come back since Sam caught him sneaking around my cave. How odd is it that I actually want to have some company? Maybe that is because Jolyn has been spending more and more time away from the cave. As nice as Sam is to be here with me, I yearn for something more, some contact that I'm missing.
It shouldn't be such a mystery. For centuries I have been here, trapped with myself for companionship. Well, I make piss poor company even for myself. Once Jolyn came, I began to realize how much of my life was empty.
Being alone was not a comfort. Being alone sucks.
The music and TV do not make up for the quiet in my heart. I long for the simple contact of holding hands, or sitting close. That isn't something that Jolyn and I share, not even in the sense of father and daughter. Between us there is little touching.
What I miss is that illusive emotion called love. Vinola. She and I touched all the time from the first moment we met. It was more than lust that flared between us. It was love even before we were brave enough to call it such. Losing her left me cold and dead inside. Still I long for even a shadow of that warmth. Perhaps someday there will be another in my life that will want to hold my hand and sit close.
Perhaps Sam and I will watch Lakehouse again. The distance between those lovers was as poignant as can be and yet there is always hope. Enough rambling.
J
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