next twist taken

More news to share. Of course your imagination goes right there, and then through a list of possibilities. But I stall, to share the twists and turns a bit. Cause it's funny how much you were there within all this. You've always been a great advocate for getting what we want. Holding out, not letting compromise limit our expectations. So when I was out there in December, soon after my birthday reprieve with Ash, it was a tough conversation to approach. Of course I respect your perspective, but I had my own to consider, that maybe compromise was worth the price, to get a lot if not all of what I wanted. And what I wanted was Ash - somehow in my life. Maybe not on the dotted line, but in all the glorious ways we easily shared. When I returned home to his airport pick up, we stopped fighting it, and fell back in pretty much. Without the label I'd been looking for, but I had to let that go, to get what mattered more. By the end of the week, however, we discovered I was pregnant. Another turn to take. It wasn't easy. December was a very tough time, measuring our connection against this disconnect. No longer two dots on a line, now triangulated, it was a whole new equation to consider. I remember being so upset that I wasn't being offered what I really believe I deserve and need, and my lovely friend asked, "is there anything else you can bring to this for another perspective." I shook my head in doubt, and came up with "Patience." As though the thought had not crossed my mind. So with Patience I continued to carry our kid, and hope that we would find our way. And we did finally find our footing and quickly that really took hold. Our middle ground wasn't actually such a compromise after all, but rich and wondrous and just what we both really wanted. By January Ash was that proud papa, and perfect partner. And I was content to enter this as happily unmarrieds.

I had just gotten used to the idea that I might not ever get married. And then this weekend, on Saturday, Ash asked me to marry him. I did not expect it in a 100 years. But in a grand and gorgeous gesture, he proposed to me at a party I produced in front of 300 of my closest friends. First quietly and then three times so it would soak in. I said YES. A lot, And buried myself in his arms, crying kissing laughing and still in complete disbelief. And then he turned to the great big room and cleared his throat and announced to all, to my huge surprise "Hello, I have an announcement to make. To old friends and new, my name is Ash and my girlfriend Hilary just accepted my proposal of Marriage." The crowd went wild. With that I guess it did sink in. We're getting married. We received so much love from everyone all night long. I love him so. We are so adorable and strong and sweet these days. And I am so proud of both of us for being aware and brave and making it through all the little turns we've taken to now take the biggest of them all. I'm ready for a whole new life. I've enjoyed the first few chapters so well, I can gladly turn this page. We get to have a wedding even, and I will gladly take his name, Mrs. Hilary Peltier. Whoa, that's the first I've uttered that. or Hilary Nichols Peltier maybe. We'll be a family within this year. I can still hardly believe it.
We spent Sunday at Mer's with the kids in our laps loving this all up, and fighting over who will hold our baby as we walk down the aisle. Cleo says since she's the flower girl she ought to carry our other flower girls. Though I know this little Lucky may be a boy. They called him uncle Ash. It's all I've ever wanted really. My vision is for a casual event, in a park. Easy. Either late October with our brand new babe, or early next spring. How's your April '09? Though I can hardly wait. Simple, sweet and sentimental is all I have planned so far. It's all too new to know. But we've both never been happier. He cried when he told his dad, and I wipe a tear with you too.
It's not always perfect. We've left and re-entered, lost then found again the best of it. Sometimes the trade off is simply partnership, and then we stumble back into Bliss. I feel so lucky to be loved so. And damn, I am smitten with this man.
I will include Ash's letter to my dad, for a bit of his take on it. I do wish you could hear the telling from him too, cause he tells it so well. It was all very impromptu I think. He says, the words just kept bubbling up and he'd swallow hard and shake it off, but finally decided he'd feel like a fool till he spoke it. And so he did. There at Cell Space on 3/29. No ring, no plans, but what a proposal.

LAST FIRST KISS

There only a certain few magical first kisses in this lifetime.
When longing and breath and scent and sentiment slide
deep into our lungs on every heavy sigh, and ride the light
that enters through your eyes, warming your velvet walled
soul. When twisting tongues speak the whole truth of you.
Learning the labyrinth of your mind quietly, and assures
you like water to drink. Inside the sweet fog tickles and
expands so every cell is imbued wit the dewy dense potion,
filling and fueling every soft motion towards the other.
Hips and shoulders and hallowed bellies seek like surfaces,
pressing and molding desperately into this momentary home.
There on a doorstep, on tip toes, that one surprising kiss.
And you know this will be the last first kiss for a long while.

ATTRACTION DISTRACTION

ATTRACTION DISTRACTION


I’ve been driven by attraction since my awareness of boys vs.
girls I guess. I had my first crush in kindergarten, flirting through
the monkey bars as he played miniature husband to my tiny wife.
There may have been a few respites when I thought boys were gross.
But mostly, every day out the door has been a certain amount about
the interaction with attraction. Out to attract a little attention at least,
or my perfect match at best. Always hoping to bump into my happily
-ever-after handsome hunk if you please, as we pass on the sidewalk
with a nice nod and then he’s gone. Oh well. I wouldn’t want to come
to the end of this quest quite yet in any case.
So I fall for every face cream and hair product and fashion trend that
might enhance my chances. And then I fine-tune my radar receptors to
detect my reception. I am not one to bitch about catcalls. Why complain
about being recognized as worthy of a whistle, after going to all that
trouble after all. I remember first finding out that I had some sort of
appeal in 7th grade when I heard some boys commenting on my behind
as I walked ahead in my seamless jeans. I was shocked by that initial
insight. Not only that I had a cute butt, but that butts were thought cute.
It was a more naive time, keep in mind. I wore those jeans as often as I
could from that point on. And was perfectly content to let all my flirting
go on silently from behind. I was shy. That summer while staying at the
lake cabin of my bad influence friend, I learned that I could make more
of the impact. Over a campfire I held a cute boy’s eye contact, and it was
that moment I had my first taste of the power of sex appeal. I had set my
sites, and it was certain, he’d be mine. We made-out that night - my first
time ever. I considered myself to be funny looking all through high school.
If it weren’t for my ‘fine ass’ I wouldn’t have gotten any action. But I grew
into my looks a little and I came to recognize slowly that there’s a lot more
to attraction than model beauty (or a ghetto booty.) What I had over other
girls was my approachability. Maybe because of how damn aware of any
attention in my direction. “Hello you too.”
So it continues. I have participated in night –life for a few decades, and
have kept my eyes open on each and every outing. Single or taken, alone
or with my crew, I am still eager to catch eyes with you. It’s hard to get
me out of the house without the incentive of some possible attention, no
matter how fleeting. And the answer might have to be no this time, but I
will always be honored to be asked.

DEFINITE MAYBE

AND NOW AGAIN another Month later, 10/25

Another beginning of another ending. We went to love parade, and the Decompression party, and then there was the invite to the group camping trip. How could I pass that up? I replied with my definite maybe, depending on what mood we might be in. We seemed to find a way to repair enough for each weekend. And then fall in till mid week when we’d stumble then crumble and crash, and then offer each other another round of comfort and reconnect just in time to accept another invitation to join the weekend crew. JF and V. in the center of it all again. So I said yes. I hadn’t been on his new RV after all. It was great. I loved it so. What other way to join this clan than with my man, we fit so well in that form. We had a beautiful time and got all caught up in the making of more momentum. Same crew was gathering again the following weekend to board the R.V. for a Halloween Fest. Of course I want to get dressed with the girls. We were going as 1920’s lesbians. Anais and June! By all means I’m on the RV. But then the middle of the week loomed and reality roared and I realized we were not allowing the letting go. Not even a little, with all these enticing weekend sweetnesses. So I called to cancel my inclusion in the weekend. And finished with my weak request, that he not call me again. At least for two weeks. It was all I could come up with in the moment.
“But we’ve been doing so well. What the hell?” Yes we had, but to what end? Repeatedly it’s been confirmed, we’re not getting back together, just slowing down our dissolve. I can’t live like that. He said he understood, and Happy Birthday, (just less than two weeks away.) Okay, I allowed. We can manage a birthday reprieve. So 10/25 to 11/6 we dedicated to our silence. Texts might be all right. At least 25 texts came in in that time.

Finally on the evening of the 6^th we met to go on my ideal date. He picked me up at the coffee shop in Hayes valley in his RV, and we drove over the GG Bridge to Nick’s Shanti Cove, a classic waterfront fisherman’s dive now fine restaurant an hour north in Marshall. After an elegant dinner out, champagne and tears, oysters and espressos, we pulled into Samuel P Taylor camp ground for our overnight adventure. And made the most of our missing each other. My Oh my, but that man has my number. We played and slept and woke and played and slept. We had breakfast at the campground, walked to the streams edge. Played and took photos and made more use of the R.V. before making it to Point Reyes for lunch and then to Frogs in Fairfax for an afternoon soak in the hot tub hideout. Home to catch a movie and more cuddling in. Ideal.

We had made it through the two weeks. Now what? All rules were off. What was I supposed to expect this round?

I had a date with my sister on the 8^th, and a girlfriend on the 9^th, a wedding on the 10^th and my birthday party on the 11^th. I invited A. We danced. I swooned. My friends began to be charmed by him again. They turned in their doubts and renewed their approval. We looked adorable. We felt just right. He was tall and strong to my tango dips, sweet and smiling to my clumsy trips. We fit right in. (Busy all Monday. Dinner with an ex on Tuesday, Film with a girlfriend on Wednesday and extended birthday dinner with D. on Thursday) It was Friday already before we found ourselves open. I called. Maybe he’d be free. “Maybe?” doesn’t work for me. What about lunch? He was slow to respond. Lunch okay. But then well after noon, my mood had turned. “I don’t want to see you” I recoiled. I didn’t need to explode on him again. Wait until this bitterness subsides.

I went out for a long stroll, and he called again. Why was I so upset? Cause I have no say in this play. I feel powerless to his whim of intermittent motivation. I can’t request cause I’ve stated over and over I can’t accept, so I have to coyly wait until he pleads past my stubborn front. Please plead. I want more of you, I need each text and call and nudge that I pretend to push away. But I don’t want a little. I want a lot. I am not satisfied with the crumbs. I want the whole pie. I want what I want, and not some sad compromise. I was mad again. “Just bye,” my reply. But I didn’t want to pout it out all by myself. When he called again, I stammered “Pick me up.” I’ll be at the Can’t Fail Café. He arrived in short time to share in my grimace and growl. He tried weakly to make his case. He’s been nothing but good to me, he reasoned, he loves me deeply. Then take me truly, fully, hold on and don't let go. Though it seems he's just not willing to take that step, forward or back. Well then, if he can’t choose me he can’t have me.

NOW NOVEMBER 18^th,

I spent that week gasping for another breath of it, as I checked and checked for another text. I felt the silence expand between those beeps. And had to admit his contact kept me afloat, with a palpable loft every time he called. And he was good about it. I could count on my morning afternoon and nightly call. Why wasn’t that enough.

Is there any other option? Should I have been more expressive, and tried harder to make my case. Is there more room to meet in the middle? Is there any other angle of approach? Or is this just the truth I have to get used to in the time it takes. Starting now.

And then again…….

KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

KINDNESS OF STRANGERS:

NEPALESE MAMA


We had lasted through the long night, a collection of random travelers clinging to the youth hostel’s patio, as the sky brightened, then went electric blue. Stars twinkled and were lost as the lake caught the first morning light. It was time for the comfort of my own rented room. I’d been in Pokhara, Nepal for an extended stop. Two days had extended into two weeks. As morning dawned and I was heading homeward along the water’s edge I was joined by a beautiful Mama with khol lined eyes and a babe on her hip. She invited me to sit for tea. Lead into her family’s one room home, I sat as she filled two earthen cups, while her husband dressed their big girls in tattered school uniforms. And then she made her plea. Anything would help. Yes I see. I would love to extend my comforts some. The price of breakfast at home would buy them a new girls dress. All I had, equal to $7 U.S., I pressed into her palm, and was grateful for the chance to impact their lives some, as they had mine.

MEETING the MOON

MIXED METAPHORS OVER THE EAST BAY



The dark orange moon rises waxing over Oakland's shipyard shores
Enlarged in the atmosphere's haze behind dinosaur cranes
She shifts left as we corner treasure island
to dip shyly behind Berkeley's highest hill
And ducks her gaze to match her moon eyes to mine.

I meet the plane of my face to her waxing ways
and add my sighs into her night skies
Gracefully she offers to sweep this sadness up into her skirts.
and inhale this darkness into her long night’s light.

And then she'll turn again, to crest past our earth's curve
and make this mood another memory softened in hindsight
and enriched in poetry's precious recipe
to reduce ripe pain into a worthy rue.
And I'll drive this bridge again under her gaze,
to be moonlit by the powder light of my own long forgotten blues.

SNAKE ACT

Just because you say you’re a snake doesn’t make it okay to act like one. Thank you for your honesty, but that doesn’t excuse you from common courtesy. So when you say you are just want to be a friend, you ought to remember how to act like one. I am just suggesting that you gentlemen owe a friend the same kindness on your way out as you invested on the way in. That’s not to say that you can’t have your cake and eat it too. We all value a little flirtation, and can appreciate taking the attraction exchange to its natural conclusion. I am not preaching abstinence of even monogamy. I just don’t accept that rudeness be excused away cause you announced your intention to turn on us. You’ve all been there. You’re on the town to take in the sites, maybe take one home. You spot her as she enters the room. She thinks you’re cute too. She comes closer, laughs at your jokes, leads you onto the dance floor, and lets your hands slide below her shoulders. I mean we wouldn’t be out here, if we weren’t willing to consider the possibility too. And these are special circumstances. This kind of chemistry doesn’t happen every night. You suggest sneaking out and she likes the idea. Your knees tangle at the coffee shop counter, the whip cream on her lip allows you to kiss her, and she makes it clear the answer will be yes, before you ask. Your place? Most certainly. And it goes like that all the way past the clever repartee into genuine exchange, and easily beyond polite and below her skirts. So you go there, consensually and seductively and with great success. Heavy sigh. Nothing like a great one night stand. So what now?
You take her number, and look forward to seeing her. Nice and spicy the 2nd time over Thai food and a pool table. Now before she gets the wrong idea, you fill her in. You’re a man about town, not looking for a relationship. Yes that’s good information. We ought to know where we’re going. But at this point we’re on date. And dating is about being sweet. Maintain your focus at least while you have her in your sites. It seems you guys are too quick to assume we’ll get attached, so you siphon back the attraction even before the first kiss goes cold. Why can’t you just enjoy the life of this little love affair while it’s still buzzing in your blood? Cause this is happening now. No one has said forever. But do your self a favor and allow the situation to maintain some mystery at least for the while. She’s gotten on the ride; don’t tell her it doesn’t go to the top. There is time for that. So it’s fine if you want to see a few women a week, just don’t diss this one to make time for that. And if you have no more nights to assign, then maybe you ought not be out shopping for what’s next.