Starting Over

I missed writing to you yesterday.  It was after midnight before I made it to bed and I didn’t have one single minute of alone time before that.  There were people everywhere all day long and then my sister arrived around 3 o’clock and we stayed up late talking and watching a football game?  I don’t even know who was playing…Clemson?  I don’t keep up with any of that and couldn’t care less but I’m happy to indulge if it’s a thing for someone else.

It’s already almost 8:30 and I’m the only one up.  Are you a late sleeper?  I’m not usually.  I have to get up early Monday – Friday so I typically sleep until 8 on Saturday and Sunday.  I miss the days of my youth when I could stay in bed until 10 on any given day of the week.  Mom’s aren’t allowed those luxuries.  Well, maybe when he gets older and doesn’t depend on me so much.  It’s ok, I wouldn’t trade any of these years for anything in the world.  Once they’re gone, I’m never getting them back.  The day is coming, sooner rather than later, when ‘mama’ will turn into ‘mom’ and he’ll never remember how he thought mama could slay all the monsters under his bed and how he felt safe snuggled up next to her in the dark.

A song just now on Pandora:

The dawn is breaking
A light shining through
You’re barely waking
And I’m tangled up in you

I wish I was tangled up in you this morning.

It’s almost a New Year.  I keep thinking of Clara Bow and your silent film actresses and I wonder if you have a fun 20’s themed party to attend on New Year’s Eve.  Will you have anyone to kiss at midnight?  Will she be wearing a cloche?

I’d wear a cloche for you on New Year’s Eve.  Maybe that and nothing else but some seamed stockings with heels and a strand of pearls.  Maybe we’d never make it to that New Year’s Eve party or, if we did, it would be 5 minutes before midnight with our dress in disarray and my lipstick smeared.  You’d guide me into the room with your hand at the small of my back and right before we entered, you’d take your thumb and run it across my smeared lipstick, cleaning it off for me.  We’d step into the room, you’d grab two glasses of champagne right before the countdown and when the clock struck 12 you’d pull me to you with a bit of force and lock eyes with me, the rest of the room fading away until it was only us, and then you’d kiss me and breathe into me all the promises of a new year and we wouldn’t part until every last verse of Auld Lang Syne had been sung.

We can start over, you know?
You can send me an email and introduce yourself or write me another poem.  You can call me at any random time of they day or night.  Do you still have my number?  In case you needed to know, there are three hundred thirty four ways to say the three hundred twenty seven things I want to say to you just right now.  And that’s not including the three thousand, one hundred fifty four I thought of just a second ago.

But I won’t say them all to you if you call me.  I’ll just say “hi” and we can go from there.

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