Tugging the cashmere thread

It's delicately snowing outside now, a light covering. Two inches promised by tomorrow morning. I'm sipping hot chocolat, my own design using part milk, part coconut milk and a bit of vanilla extract and ground cinnamon.

I feel a bit better tonight, when R answered my chat window and told me in big letters: I LOVE YOU. His friends from New Zealand came to see him, he's cooking them dinner and serving them wine, so I let him go. I think it's possible to have such a grounding affair over a vast distance, technology as co-conspirator of warmth and embraces. But it truly depends on the individual, his patience, his trust, in the other, in himself.

I have much work to do this month, researching Oregon, what it can offer someone of my condition. I'm the one who must uproot. Again. R knows this, I told him what had happened last time, years ago. It's as if, again, karma is granting me a second chance. Life offering me a second chance, and I have to promise not to screw it up again. So much possibility, if only I reached out for it. I have to reach out, it's just too easy and too comfortable floating in limbo and merely fantasizing how it feels when the wind is bracing you, which only happens when you are traveling at great speed. I've been still all these years.