On starting over, indefinitely

And now it’s March.  I dipped my toes into the blog water last autumn and sank without a trace. Now spring is thawing out the frozen mud, shifting the currents and loosening the grip of weeds on this bloated corpse and I arise like a zombie, clutching the wordpress dashboard with fingers dripping unspoken words …. oh dear. Shall I start over?

Standing at the sink yesterday washing dishes while E worked at the table, squishing pizza dough through her fingers, I decided I would return to Blogland (have you ever been had in Blogland?) and post my idle kitchen sink musings.

I was thinking of D who has been my friend for over 20 years now. I felt overwhelmed with affection. I want to declare it: I love D. She makes me laugh more than any other person I’ve ever known. She captures angles and pins them down while I flap about, inarticulate. She is scathing and loving in the same motion. She allows herself to play more easily than I do. She dances with her shadow and her vulnerability makes her invulnerable. She is dangerous: in self-defense she mocks, and anyone and anything may receive the stings of her Beatrice.  Often I can’t keep up with it, and she plays my gullibility like piano keys – it rises to the surface later, upon reflection, and I recognise the tune in hindsight. She invokes a bearable shame. She is powerlessness and power combined. Like me, she has it all yet struggles with unreasonable, acute, painful discontent.

At university we shared an idyllic year mapping out the contours of our private nation of two (“we’re impervious; we scintillate”) before stepping back onto our own roads. These diverge and merge along a treacherous landscape, through which we step gingerly and call out to one another – sometimes very near and other times across vast distances. At times we hear each other and at others we don’t; we both ache to please. Our friendship has been stretched and squeezed over the years, it unravels and disperses but we start over indefinitely. We revisit our nation of two and find shelter there in those few minutes knitted together from the threads poking out of an hour on skype.

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