New Endings, Old Beginnings

I'm mad at myself tonight, but I'll get over it. Driving my youngest to her best friend, (Eva)'s, birthday party late this afternoon, I neglected to check the route properly.

By the time we got to the venue, far south in Pacifica, she was 40 minutes late. She got out of the car without giving me our customary hug. Like me, she is always prompt, punctual, and reliable. Neither of us judge others who cannot be this way, because the ones we hold most responsible are ourselves.

But we do not easily excuse each other when we mess up. Thus, tonight, both she and I are mad at -- me.

Meanwhile, in the warmth that has embraced Northern California, the coast was crowded with surfers, joggers, sunbathers, photographers, gamers and lovers.

The plum tree (on the right in the shot above) has buds, wrapped tightly but ready to yield and open to the sun, then the flowers will fold onto themselves and turn into the ripe purple fruit that dangles seductively each mid-summer here.

It's spring but it might as well be summer in San Francisco. A time of endless possibilities. I've been in a good mood for days, which is a novelty. The rock in my life these past three months has been my oldest child. She is now heavy with child; her own daughter is due in a matter of weeks.

But when I hit bottom, she is there unconditionally. She listens, she hears, she accepts whatever it is I have to say. And that has been a lot of talking over this past quarter-year.

For me, stories hold such a prominent place in my universe that sharing my own is the most intimate thing I have to offer. And, as I have slowly my been formulating my Universal Theory of Love, all I can think about is intimacy.

Recently, it came to me that all of the adults I have known in my life are either running away from intimacy or seeking it. Often, in a couple, one is headed one way and the other the other.

Which, of course, in time ends in disaster.

My theory, which I do not have time to unfold at the moment, considers this paradox.