A New Year

2008. 2. 7. 4. 25. 38. 30. 5.

A list of numbers which I have given significance, most of which are like bricks looming over my head, held in a sack by a loose rope called my life script.

--

The New Year had barely rung in, and the first day the postal service were back at work from their extended holiday, they conspired with the Aunty-Persecution-Front to deliver a baby shower announcement and the picture of my 2nd cousin's new son. And then the phone rang a few times like an annoying loud-mouthed brat at the quiet coffee-shop, to announce a new grandchild here, and another pregnancy there.

Gone are the days when the torment was simply a wedding invitation. The ruler, once a 12 inch wooden slap on the wrist, has stretched a few times around the span of the planet. Yippee! More fodder for discussion during guilt-filled visits home!

--

His voice has the heaviness to make me swoon in a myth of security, but also a lightness to convince me he could giggle at a circus clown like a 5 year old if he was in the mood.

He didn't even have to try to skip stones across the pond to impress me. I am that easy.