This was composed for the 2016 A to-Z April Challenge. I thought I’d make my April A-Z challenge some sort of autobiography.
Here are chapters M & N:
So, I met this fantastic man on the internet…I was almost 50, he was almost 60. So we started courting. He’d fly to New Orleans and I’d fly to Palo Alto…some suburb I’d never heard of near San Francisco…surrounded by redwood forested hills. A half hour from the Pacific Ocean.
I wasn’t sure I liked it there. The French Quarter is cement and bricks, too, but everything is so old and I know the history because my family is connected to it and I’m not quite sure what a proton is because I’d filed that into a file in my brain I was certain I’d never have to open again and,
somewhere around there, you asked me to marry you and I said yes…I’d move out to California with you – you had two children living here, I’d never had kids plus the job field was scarce, in New Orleans, for atom smashers/engineers and I could be a secretary/poet anywhere – so I said okay to California, and that I hoped you’d be able to find us an apartment with some grass and trees around it.
The last time you visited New Orleans – before I moved out here – we were cuddled together on my futon. A mule-drawn carriage was passing by. Hooves upon cement echoing through the french doors and all round my studio. Click-clack. Click-clack.
We’d spent so many peaceful slow days together in New Orleans. We both knew the different life paces we lived. Click-clack. Click-clack.
“You’re going to miss this sound,” you whispered.
I don’t really miss that sound..see, if the mule shit, out front my gate on a hot, sunny, mid-July afternoon, it smelled pretty bad …pretty fast.
Or maybe you were just being romantic and wondering and hopeful. Sounds are romantic. It rains a lot in New Orleans…rain drops led to long, lazy afternoon naps.
And you did find the grass and the redwoods and bamboo and our balcony overlooks the last empty wild lot in town…where we’ve lived all these years in our tiny condo. in mountain view – a suburb near san francisco.
The wild grown lot will soon be developed. The redwoods will remain almost all round us. We laugh a lot. We argue. Sometimes we don’t agree. That’s was the hardest part. To just not agree and get on with loving.
ps..cuz of my arm, i prolly won’t post again for a few days…i want to spend time visiting other blogs, and I can’t do both.
image via pixabay