Lemon Tree Love

His eyes focused, for a moment, on the contrast of her otherwise pale skin with the flush of her cheeks as she walked towards the spot where he was leaning on a fire hydrant.

“Hello, handsome,” she said.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he said as he extended his hand, palm up, and revealed a bright yellow lemon. “I snuck this from the corner tree for you.” She looked over her shoulder, checking to see if the lonesome housewife that planted the tree last spring had seen, or was seeing, their exchange, and then she took the lemon from him and clutched it in her small hand. It was firm and cooler than the muggy Foggy Bottom air that choked the city this time of year.

“Thank you,” she said. Then she kissed him, and kept kissing him until it felt, again, like the lonely housewife was watching. There was more love in her lips than he could hold in his heart. He broke away and smiled at her – at the old row houses – at the poorly parked cars and the cracked cement sidewalks.

Written from 1:10 pm to 1:32 pm on Tuesday, February 21st, 2012 in my office in Traverse City, Michigan.

Bravery in Love and Life

I came across the following quote by Marianne Williamson, author of The Gift of Change, on Julia Allison’s tumblr. My response below was originally posted on my tumblr and I’ve copied it here for personal reference.

I don’t look back on my earliest forays into romance and think, ‘Oh, but that was only puppy love.’ Rather, I look back and think how courageously we loved, before we knew what there was to be afraid of; how strong we were, before any other agendas stood in the way of our love; and how pure our hearts were, when they were not yet tainted by cynicism or doubt. The older we are, the more we know some things; the younger we are, the more we know others. Age only makes us smarter if we retain our bravery.

I completely agree with this quote, but I think the concepts of “staying brave” and not letting age get in the way (or be an excuse) can be extrapolated beyond the reaches of romance.

I am finding myself once again at a point in my life where I have to make some big decisions. E.g., where to take the bar, where to live, and where to work. These decisions are interdependent almost to the point that I only have one decision to make. If anyone of them falls into place, then the others are mostly irrelevant. That is the harsh downside to attempting to be a practicing lawyer.

For whatever reason I am not drawn to a specific area of law or a specific area of the country. I am far from apathetic, and this relates closely to my first resolution of 2009 – too be more decisive and more critical. There should be a reason for what I want that outweighs my complacency. My life will live itself, but it won’t go as I wish if I don’t steer it.

This is where being brave comes in. The decisions come at a cost and I am going to have to be brave – fearless at times – and go out and get what I want from this world. I’ve been incredibly fortunate thus far, but it is time to stake my claim on what exactly I want from life – to take up my space in this world – to breath deeply the air that is here for me to breath. (High five to self!)

So, off I go into 2009 with a renewed approach. To be in the moment. To be willing to break out of my comfort-zone and to get going with my life. To love and live courageously every single day of 2009 and beyond.

P.S. – Yes, this is cliche-ridden. I’m okay with that for now. Ha.

In Her Eyes

He stood, half seated on the antique writing table in the hallway. His stomach lurched. She turned off the hallway light. He surrendered to the darkness and slipped further down the front of the table until he was seated on the floor with his head on his knees. The weight of his error pinned him to this moment. He looked up again in her direction like knowing prey anticipating the first strike of its attacker. But there was nothing coming. Through the darkness there was only the blackness of her eye sockets, highlighted below by her cheekbones.

He looked through his tears and said, “I know what you’re thinking.”

Anger overtook him and he thrust his elbows into the weak old wood of the table until it began to crack. The lamp that sat atop the table fell and shattered on the floor. Glass scattered around him. He pumped forward and back again with so much force that his body was kicked away. Laying in glass, elbows bleeding, he screamed and pounded his fists until the pain absolved his lack of control.

There was a sincerity to her existence in his life that he desperately wanted to understand. But could not. She loved him and did not lie when she told him so. He could not stretch far enough through the darkness to reach her. Even if he was seated beside her, their arms entangled, looking into her cold blue eyes his empathy for her love would be insufficient. The fact that he could not try hard enough to make successful something that was not meant to succeed infuriated him.

Written from 2:15 am to 2:35 am in my bedroom in Traverse City, MI.