Steam poured in from the wall; hardly elevating my core or increasing the sweat already pouring down my face. A couple more minutes and the connection was made back to hot sultry Florida days—and again back to Greg. I’m embarrassingly behind in keeping up; a poor excuse for maintaining a nearly two-decade long friendship.  
The second hit came as I was cleaning out e-mail and ran across a BAA ’11 notice.  And the never-rolling odometer of my car. And the reference to Santos by BillL. And the early ’90s west-coast music from today’s spin class. And the incessant internal voice reminding me I want to do this.

375 years since the last winter solstice lunar eclipse yet I can vividly recall a couple dozen incredible moonlit nights and sunsets we spent grabbing tents and heading to a variety of campsites for the holidays. Local, hours drive, or head deep south for several hours and spent a truly tropical holiday.

I called him today–twice. I didn’t expect to get through; after all our lives have diverged in the last 6-7 years; almost exponentially in the last 3-4. Matters not; up until, through, and immediately after my split he was the singular confidant and voice of reason. Close but not too close. Extremely close yet not geographically smothering. Then I hit my wall and I haven’t let him back in. I called him twice today; I’ll do so at least that many times over the weekend, even if just to have my number pop up so he knows I’m out here.


wag more, bark less
AniMal