The Unforgettable Fire

June 26, 2006

I had to laugh this morning at my small UPS shrine that has arrived.  I really just thought it would be a little package, once a month perhaps, for a small reminder of home.  You’ve been sending things off though, as far as I can tell, nearly once a week.  It is all
very appreciated, and I know I will now have something grand to look froward to–perhaps my own bag of mail!–once we reach Port Somewhere in a few weeks (making it, sadly more than a full month since my last glimpse of Earth).  I hate that I appear to be slacking in my duties to be sending you boxes, and if it keeps up like this I will have to completely shower you with gifts on my return.

There is only so much that you really can do for me, I know, from your distant Long. and Lat. of the National District.  Like me, I know there are only so many times you can really tell me about the same hectic Washington D.C. days without much else to write about.  I am not even asking to be written more frequently and in larger mass. Will you tell me how you are doing, and what your thoughts are, perhaps even edging into your feelings?  Right now I have little more than a fair idea, other than knowing you are very busy.  I will be grateful for anything, even if it to explain how little time you do have, which I  know is true because you write like clockwork at approximately 11:30 most nights.  What I know already, to save you time: you very excited about working for a senator of New Mexico; it is understandably a huge thrill to shadow him, which must create very long days. Once they have also accommodated, I there is everything that you regularly must do before Marley’s day is complete.  And on your Capitol travels there, might be a small elephant on your shoulders (no, not a Republican) that can whisper my name to you at the oddest times, because an elephant does not forget.

Thank you too for your note last night–it was the little silly boost I needed, because I do know that we are still the same, and you’re only living your unique Marley Life, like you always have.  And I know it’s not always easy to write to me right now (ever find your heart in your throat too?), and my own situation can relegate me to the back-burner.  It’s just what happens when you don’t physically see someone every day.  I wish I too had more things to write to you about, but my watery life is either ordinarily boring or extraordinarily repetitious.  So I rely on my “personal life” (excuse this preposterous term) as what I have been able to fashion for myself, but sometimes love still means skimming through what I thought of a book at hand, to send anything of new value to the other.

I try not to think every day of “if onlys,” but I still can’t break myself from wishing they would just turn this boat around-  “Don’t they know what I felt behind?” I tell them silently!  So these are my endless exercises in futility, that you have perhaps been better at muting and setting aside than me, for all the world it changes.  I can see how both schools of thought can be used, and definitely how the latter works right now, as along it can be TiVo’ed later.   It all might be a matter of perspective, like the movie Castaway (the volleyballs are still silent, for now).

The greatest compliment I can be given is the one you have given me; the only way I have to respond is that you have taught me to love again, a trick worthy of charging admission.  I have not always been good to love.  In the past I’ve kicked it in the gut while no one was looking, while assuring myself that I was embracing it.  You’ve made me discover it again, that really meaning that I see clearly what I have in front of me, and am completely satisfied.  This spring I feel like we reached a new level in our relationship, the “mature” part- where we still accept, and love, each other for all the warts and wrinkles we now see.

That plateau has always been allusive to me, but I’ve reached it with you.

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