The time past hasn't done much to fill the hole. You are still there, in my thoughts, in my heart. A feeling so clear that I resonate, day in and day out, with an ache like the tone of a bell.

happy birthday

Your message today made me feel a lot of things, none of which are simple.

A shared secret?

An echo of love lost?

A final goodbye?

What were you trying to say?

We were never that good at talking, but I would have liked to hear your voice today, to tell you what's on my mind; to shed a tear and share the loss that I still feel. To make you laugh, to hear you say that you miss me.

same street, cold winter's night

The nights are getting darker, longer. It's how I know it's coming.

My night, the one I have to fight for and accept the apologies of my friends.

It's coming.

But not the same as the years' before.

I haven't been making time for myself for months. Candle burning at both ends, but the work end seems dipped in kerosene.

I tried to go to a party tonight, birthday, not christmas. No one was home, so I walked to mine.

Probably better that way. I wasn't fit for human consumption.

My night, it's coming.

But not like last year's.

Or the year before.

I will be half my father's age. First time ever. If my math is right, the only time ever, in both our lives.

It means something to me. A turning point, a threshold, a date to cross out, marker in hand.

I had meant to do more by now. Nothing specific, just more. More with everything.

I wasn't prepared for doing less.

But here I am, sitting where I was years before, doing pretty much what I was doing years before, daydreaming about what might have been.

The loss feels more acute now.

My bed is cold at night.

The house is quiet.

My stocking is where you put it, last year, untouched, waiting for someone to fill it.

There is something about the stocking.

Your family revels in them. Thinking back, so did mine.

But the one you hung for me, looking at it, my heart sinks.

For a couple of days a year, it held you and your dreams, your hopes for me.

For a couple of days, a year, it held love.

A love and happiness untainted by second thoughts, untainted by pasts not easily forgotten.

It was filled with the kind of love that children feel.

And on this night, two days before my night, I sit and I think about love. Your love.

The love that brought cake to the party room; shared cupcakes and tarantulas underground; handed me a dabber and shared snacks.

The love that warmed me.

That brought a buzzing noise into my head, my heart, every time you were around.

The love that made me feel like things would be ok, even when they weren't.

Five days from now,

I want to find that love,

in my stocking.

"Have you ever had one of those days? You know one where nothing at all monumental happens, but by the end of it, you don't even know who who are any more or what the hell you're doing with your life? It was just a rough day, and the only person I wanted to see at the end of it with was you."

Memories Pt. 39

christmas eve, at home and on the way home

Holidays were always hard. I worked a lot and never got to take time off. You are so connected to your family that you feel pain when you don't get to share with them.

You'd always go up early, a day or two. To bake and cook and help your sister get the house ready. Those two days were the guiltiest I have ever felt. I couldn't leave work, I had to be there, but I felt I should have just walked out and followed you. I wanted to cook and bake for you. You and your family.

It never happened that way. Our holidays were always short and stunted.

Every christmas eve I would drive myself, in the dark, down the highway to join a celebration winding down. An interloper, eating his luke warm plate while everyone looked on nursing their tea and coffee.

But the evening would unfold and I would unwind.

Eventually, everyone would go and we'd drive home.

You'd nod off in the car. All the family, taking care of the kids, sleep would sneak up on you, especially when you stopped moving. Its like you always knew that it was there, chasing you in a never ending game of tag. Only catching you when you stopped.

I would drive, mostly in silence, not wanting to wake you.

Getting home, we'd have to unpack the car. Your family always treated you well. Lots of leftovers and lots of presents.

But we'd be home.

I looked forward to this time. It was only then I really felt our christmas started. I know you gave up a lot to accommodate my christmas.

Never getting to go where you wanted to go. Never getting to spend time off with me.

But christmas eve, that was it for me. That was our family's christmas; when my excitement came out and all my love was found under that tree and nestled in the bottom of your stocking.

You and me,
the cats,
all curled up by the couch,
near the tree,
taking turns opening gifts,
sipping egg nog,
listening to carols,
old and new.

A family with a tradition of its own.

Sure, there was love the rest of the year.

There was a relationship, sometimes good and sometimes not so much.

But christmas eve, christmas eve was when I had a family

"You're really hard not to like"

Something I never understood. It stuck with me from then until now and bothered me for the whole time.

Understandably, there were only three options. Women are women are women.

But I thought I would have had a little support.

Why did no one take up my flag?

Did no one say, "Are you an idiot? He's a great guy. You'd be stupid to look somewhere else."

But I guess there were only three options. They either didn't think that I was any good for you, or they just wanted to be supportive and couldn't tell you what they thought, or they didn't include me in the equation at all.

My friends said everything under the sun; one extreme to the next.

But yours.

What did they say?

Women tend to be supportive, above all else. Decision made, words reinforce.

I can hear it now, "Do what makes you happy. If you are not sure, you should figure it out. etc, etc, etc."

The more I wait, the more I realize something that was clear to me before, but became obscured as time went on.

I am a pretty good person. I have my faults, but on a whole I am worth it. I would make you happy, if you would let me. If the world would let me.

But this isn't about me, which is something none of your friends may have said. I am not the one failing here.

I am just a boy. A boy who tries, everyday, to be better and to take the high road and treat people with kindness and respect. A boy who would make a good husband, a great father and an eternal friend. Someone who is smart, funny, loyal and strong.

Which is how I sit. I am not going to devolve. This is who I am and I am only going to get better, not worse.

Memories Pt. 38

birthdays

I am not sure when he said it. I don't even think I was there when he did. I just learned about it from you. It was one of those things that you couldn't wait to share with me. One of those moments that you wished I had experienced with you.

He called it 'happy cake'. It was just one of those things that kids do. They make up names for things. Not sure if it came form happy birthday and birthday cake, but it stuck. From then on we always called it happy cake.

It was one of the many additions to our own language.

But those words are disappearing, like many of things between us. I remember the last happy cake I made you. You said it was the best cake you ever had. You said that about a lot of things I did for you. The best you'd ever had. Mostly food, but other things as well.

But that has all gone. And with its departure there is a hole. I miss the little guy who coined the term. His affection was real. But I miss other things as well. A lot of them were dreams and fantasies, but they all add up to a gaping void. A giant black pit somewhere between my heart and my stomach. A hole that I don't seem to be able to fill.

It is almost like an itch you can't scratch as it is just out of reach.

Not pain, although it has a corona of pain, but a loss so profound it overwhelms me sometimes. A deep dark void where something golden used to be.

A hole in my life perfectly shaped like you.

Just parted from friends, I turned the corner, heading for the subway. A narrow sidewalk faced me, cluttered with lebanese food, fresh fruit, lights and noise.

A girl caught my eye. Dead centre of the concrete, where I had to travel. Tall and slim, but carrying an oversized knapsack, and a cloth satchel, in that hippy way. She pondered the fruit.

Getting closer. Sizing her up, after a few drinks, I thought of asking her if I could help bear some of her burden. Take one of the bags and walk her home.

Even closer. Intent on her fruit, I aimed to pass her by. Maybe smile, say hello.

Closer still. She turned her head, strange man approaching wouldn't you. I couldn't break me stare before our eyes met, just before I passed her by.

Passing her by, she turned to follow me with her eyes. Now she was staring and there was something familiar. Something I knew.

'Peter?'

I stopped.

'Peter, right?'

I turned.

'I can't believe I am right off the bus and I run into someone I know.'

How have you been, I mumble, how is your sister?

'She is fine. She got married in 2001 and lives in Kingston. Have you lived here long?'

About ten years.

'Wow, that's crazy I bumped into you. I am famished. Just here for a couple a days for a wedding. Just got off a plane from Halifax. I am waiting for a bus.'

It had already come to me. I knew this woman. It had been almost twenty years, but I knew her. She was the younger sister of my high school sweetheart. I hadn't seen either in years.

But, I had thought. I had spent hours thinking about, at different times, how it went wrong, how I could apologise, whether I should.

You see, I cheated on her sister. It was a drunken moment of weakness when I was eighteen, but that doesn't forgive it. And it gets worse. I don't think I loved her but I told her I did, a lot. Mostly for selfish, destructive reasons. I was a child, but again, that doesn't excuse it.

I have dwelled on that for a while. I have wondered where she was, looking for signs of her online and through friends. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for being a boy. A stupid, immature, self centred boy. And I regretted it. It took a while and I grew up, but I regretted it all the same.

"Don't think on it too much. Come across something that don't make you miserable, enjoy it."

Memories Pt. 37

summer, with you not there

Years ago, you went somewhere. As much as I try I can't remember where. You were gone, away from the city. You were still living with your mother, but she was gone too, that much I remember. Everything else is foggy and dark. You had left me, but I had instructions, that much is clear.

I was tasked with stopping in to take care of your cats. I had keys and a need to do what was right; what was agreed and good. Duty.

You were specific that time. You wanted me to stay for a while and give them love. Sure, I could watch cable. Sure, I could make dinner and eat the food. Sure, I could even sleep in your bed if I wanted. I just had to be there for the cats, first and foremost.

I am not sure you told your Mom or her husband that I would have the run of their house. But I had keys and instructions and a purpose.

I kept coming back, mostly late in the evening, after driving back from Oakville. Once with a pizza; once I made dinner, burritos, if I remember. I lay on your bed, eating my food and watching your cable.

Tubby stayed near. Chester roamed as he always does, but checked in every once in a while. And I watched the food network until I started nodding off. Restaurant make-over and iron chef until I started falling asleep on your comfortable bed, in that basement where I never fit.

I felt so near you even though you were far away. I felt like a caretaker of your life; and your Mom's. I was doing good work, necessary work. I was doing my duty. I was your boyfriend.

These memories came flooding back tonight. You see, I was tasked with a similar duty and I struck out to complete it with diligence. Keys were given and I rode hard to to put them in locks. I had to take care of some cats. I couldn't stay as long as I did before, not tonight, but I gave as much as I could.

You used to call me daddy when you talked to your cats. You joked about my love affair with Tubby. How she loved me but hated me a little, or was jealous of you, not sure. Even for a cat, she was high needs. Daddy's little girl, I guess.

Chester has always been his own cat. Fine alone, but making lots of friends, he was playful and warm to everyone. Not so much to me, but we had an understanding. An agreement to make things work for you and tubs. A gentleman's bond. Man to man.

But tonight was different. Alone, I was there taking care of someone else's cats and I couldn't help but think of you. I wanted you to be there. I wanted you to sneak up behind me and startle me with a kiss before jumping up and holding on as I piggy backed you around the room

Duty called, but I wanted you.

Close and there, enjoying our little family.

All to the amusement of the cats.

Cause you know its a simple game that you play...

At night, in the shallow breaths of the dying summer, I sit and think, awake and alive.

Summer is for lovers. That is clear.

It should be bicycles and blankets; picnics and patios; beaches and barbeques, the memories kept and savoured.

Savoured with kisses and cuddles, under fireworks and in parks, the darkness a friend, a quilt to keep out the world.

But the sunlight, those bright and sunny days, shines down and illuminates you. It brightens those things I already know. Those forms. Your beauty; your being. You glow at night and in dusk, no doubt, but under the bright sun of day, you radiate. You are alive, more so than any other time of day. You are like the moon, a daytime moon, reflecting the sun's light down on me.

And I bask.

I live in the glow of you. The sunlight and the love, they are my food. I look for them. I look for them to help me get through the day.

And without, I am less.

I struggle to smile, I struggle to laugh.

All of those things that I want to do, I can't. Not without the glow, the light.

You have that effect on me.

Yes, you sustain me.

And I am tired without.

Memories Pt. 36

in the rain

Cold and dark, riding home in a downpour. My shorts and the hoody you love so much soaked before I make my first turn. August shouldn't chill like this.

I keep pedaling despite the spray from both wheels. Found a new secret way to where I went and am using it to get to where I am going.

Home, will be quiet and dark when I arrive, so I think of you. I think of you in your warm and cozy bed. The bed you bought, with your oversized soft sheets, thick blankets and lots of pillows. A bed so piled high with comfort, our cat couldn't always make it on the first try. The bed I slept easy in, next to you and all our animals.

I think of you snoring softly, mouth guard in place, grasping onto my arm, using me for warmth even in your sleep. Hushed words uttered only when I shift, when I move. Yes, even in your sleep you know what words to use to pierce my heart and make me yours.

I think about this and I ride, cold and wet.

I ride wondering where you are and whether you are dry and warm.

In my mind, I need you to be dry and warm; to be under covers, cozy and safe. With the cats and the blankets, safe and sound.

And I wish I was next to you, keeping the cold out.

Keeping the world at bay, so you can dream, warm and safe.

This is what I wished when I was riding home, on a dark and wet night.

Plans Pt. 11

It was pretty obvious that I wanted to get married. I asked you all the time. At some point I imagined you would say yes. I still think you may, one day.

I thought we would end up taking dance lessons. It was a weird thought, but I know how much you love your dancing reality TV. I always imagined that we would take lessons to prepare for that big dance at our wedding. Crazy, I know, but something I had convinced myself none the less.

Memories Pt. 35

early on, leaving a bar.

We spent the evening together. Talking and sharing, getting to know one another. Time passed and it got dark. Probably faster than either of us realized. A chill came into the air like the season changed. We were both surprised.

I gave you my zip up hoody. You were cold and I was in love, what else would I do. It looked so big on you, on your small frame, like you were a child playing dress up. But it made you warm and smile.

You left me to ride. Of course you can borrow it. No, I'll be fine.

A few days later, you handed it back, apologizing for not washing it. It's ok.

Putting it on, a little while later, I was bombarded by a sense of you. You perfume and smell clung to the collar. I had you near even when you weren't. Each movement, each shift brought you to me and I smiled.

It smells like you, I told you.

You smiled.

I didn't wash that shirt for as long as I could. When I did, the smell was gone and it hurt a little.

Now that you are gone, it is missing from my life.

That wonderful smell.

Focusing hard enough I can bring it back to me. It is long gone from the house, but memory can bring it back. In my mind, with some thought, it is there.

It reminds me of happiness and love, of summer and hugs, of soft caresses and nights lying next to you.

I miss the nearness of you. Of all those little things that my other senses knew so well.

I wish it were here, your smell, as if it never left.

Memories Pt. 34

inside your head

You put up so many emotional walls. It was so disheartening and frightening to see you paralyzed by fear. It reduced your ability to act to almost nothing. I hated to watch it. You internalised so much and let it build up so that it always seemed so insurmountable to you. So huge and scary.

It lead you to tell me about things as an afterthought, how you would have acted; how you wanted to act.

But you just couldn't act.

You couldn't take that first step. And that made me feel sad, helpless and a little foolish. Like I wasn't worth enough for you to make an effort.

You always said you wanted someone to push you, to make you better.

I would have helped you anyway you wanted; anyway you asked. I still would.

None of it was ever too big to overcome and I wanted to tell you that, but you never asked.

Memories Pt. 33

cancun

A couple of nights into our trip. We had a couple of speed bumps, but were now enjoying ourselves, people watching and lying on the beach.

We had avoided the steakhouse. Mainly because it was a steakhouse. You couldn't eat that. It also looked a little dodgy.

We finally went. We were so wrong. I finally got a cold beer in a glass and we actually ate real Mexican food on the resort. Our waiter was a cute little guy, attentive and warm. He talked our ear off and brought use everything we ordered. He didn't blink when we asked for hot sauce. He just countered with 'No one ever asks, but I will check with the chef.'

What came out was an odd concoction. Shredded habaneros that had been fire roasted and mixed with garlic and lime. 'I am sorry, but this is all he has', he said. But it was great.

When he came back to freshen our drinks he asked us what we thought. We told him with gusto how good it was. He smiled, 'they keep it in the kitchen for the staff. Sometimes the cooks come in after too much tequila. It is the cure for a hangover.'

We both thought this was hilarious. It was an interesting view into a Mexico we hoped to see.

We had a wonderful meal, eating too much and drinking to our fill.

I was always amazed at how close I felt with you just staring at you over a restaurant table. So many meals in the time we had together. There was always a closeness there, a spark.

Sharing a meal, touching hands or a quick brush against a leg under the table, you leaning into me with my arm around you. I loved spending that time with you.

I miss it.

I miss you.

Memories Pt. 32

the first summer

We had been hanging out every night. You still called it dating. I was playing it close to the vest, not wanting you to go.

We rode our bikes everywhere. To parks, many parks. We lay on grass and played on swings. I think we saw every park west of bathurst.

We went to bars for drinks and conversation. Bars we wouldn't grace ever again and some we made our own.
You held my hand and kissed my lips. You looked amazing, as you always did, but you also glowed and your eyes gleamed with expectation and excitement.
You kept dropping hints, but I was obtuse. Well only a little. I didn't want to share you. And I was a little embarrassed.

Eventually, your pressure worked. Back you came. We went straight to my room after a short tour. And we never left. That summer we spent so much time in that room, on that patio.

But it was the first night, I remember.

'What took you so long', you breathed. Immediately switching, to lighten the moment, 'I thought I'd never get invited in', you teased.

I remember that night. Like it was yesterday.

How you made me feel wanted, how you filled my heart and made me smile.

You are remarkable. I have thought this for years.

You are kind and sweet, full of caring and compassion. Your faults I want to protect you from; your strengths I want to lean on.

Nothing has changed. I look at your face and see joy and love and a future. I live and breathe for your smile; for those eyes.

But, I need you to come find me. You need to act.

Three years ago today...

You made a decision.

I never understood it and forgave you instantly. I still don't understand it, and I want to give you the world.

Was it right then?

Memories Pt. 31

the front step

If I worked early, you weren't often home when I got home, so I had time to wait and think about you and dinner or plans for the evening.

Often, I would sit out on the front step and wait.

I loved waiting for you, waiting to see you walk or ride up the street. On your bike, I'd hear your bell. And it would make my heart ache.

Walking, you'd saunter up the street, always carrying a bag that looked to heavy for you. Getting closer you'd see me and greet as you always did.

'Hey you!' or 'Muchacho!'

Either would make my blood race and a smile flash across my face.

I still sit on my front step, enjoying the late day sun.

I know you aren't going to come up the street, but I can't help but wait for you.

It is what boys in love do.

They wait for their girl.

Sleeplessness

You were always the strong one. You took care of me when I was weak or scared. You would smile and put your arm around me, whispering 'Oh muchacho...' until you could make the pain or fear go away.

You have been strong through all of this.

Last night, I awoke, at first I thought it was from the rain, but then a new uneasiness set in. I felt like you were hurting, where ever you were, you were confused and in pain.

I wanted to find you and help you. To hold you close and feel your tears on my neck. I would make it better. Whatever it was I would force it away. I would protect you.

You wouldn't be afraid again.

Memories Pt. 30

fall or winter, our first

You were visiting my house and it was cold. I kept my house cold, I liked it and was poor. The roommate didn't pay utilities.

You had come over to see me. We wanted to do something, to get out of the house. You had five dollars to your name. I think I had less.

We went for a walk. It was cold. We held hands. You liked to interlock our fingers. I prefered the comfort of palm to palm. You always won.

We wandered down Bloor, east towards the annex. No plan, just walking.

Want to grab a coffee, I suggested.

'Its too late. I have to get up early. How about a tea?'

Tea it is.

Stopping at the coffee shop at dovercourt, we got tea. Me lemon, you mint.

And headed south.

Turning west again, we went looking at the houses. Our first stop was a bench in front of a church, not far south and not far west off dovercourt. We sat and let our tea cool, breathing clouds as we talked about our days.

'Can you hear that?'

Yeah. Were is it coming from?, I replied

Looking down, toward the church, we saw we were standing in front of a row of basement windows, well lit from the inside.

Sitting there, a old heavy set man was playing a well tuned piano in his shabby well worn suit. He was practicing some classical piece I won't remember. And he was good.

We were speechless. Drinking our tea, listening to this man pour out his soul on an old stand up piano alone in a church basement.

Inching closer, keeping warm we shared, in silence, our private concert.

It was magical.

A moment like no other.

But we had a lot of those.

Your party over.

All your friends gone home.

Your first instinct is to come here and check up on me.

How is that supposed to make me feel?

I have said enough.

The memories continue and some day I will share everything, and more, that is unseen.

Now it is up to you.

Memories Pt. 29

dark night, on the path

Early on we rode our bikes a lot together. You love you bike and always said you felt better, no matter what, after you got to ride your bike. I think it made you feel like a kid again. Your face glowed after a ride, beautiful and alive.

I didn't ride my bike much before I met you. Some, but not much. You brought that out in me.

You were always afraid of how I rode. You thought I was a little reckless, but strangely you were the one had more close calls. The night all the drunk idiots stepped out in front of you on bloor scared me. I felt powerless as I watched you fall.

I usually rode behind you when we traveled. Riding reckless and fast, sometimes I would look back and you would be falling behind. I hated that.

You were my guide through the nooks and crannies of the city. Staring at your bum the whole way, you would take me to our destination safe and sound. You would guide me through. I didn't even have to think.

Riding home from the east along the path. In the park near strachan, where the path gets twisty and dark, I felt the loss. It was so dark and my light wasn't very bright.

I looked up, but you weren't there. You weren't in front of me to guide me.

And I didn't know what to do.

How would I get through without you?

Memories Pt. 27

a hot humid sunday, early afternoon.

We had been invited to brunch by a friend of yours. It was supposed to be a pretty big function, but everyone else couldn't make it. So it was just the two of us and the two of them and their new baby.

We had never been to their place before and didn't know what to expect. They were both chefs and we were under strict instructions not to bring anything except a couple bottles of proseco.

Off we went on our bikes, just barely beating the downpour as we finally found there apartment.

It was a cozy little place with a tiny kitchen, and open living and bedrooms only separated by pocket doors. Their little one crawling all over the hardwood, enjoying himself. An idyllic art deco
picture in a more moden age.

The aromas were amazing. Caramelized onion quiche and maple glazed bacon. With a hardy spinach salad on the side. The food was simple but oh so good. And the free flowing mimosas didn't hurt.

The company wasn't bad either. Getting to know these new friends. Playing all afternoon with their son.

Talking and sharing, it was fun and nice. Nice to meet some of your friends for a change. To spend time in your world with you.

Afterwards, days later, you told me that you talked to them. They had received the small thank you gifts I sent them.

In a rare moment of pride, you said that your fiend had thought I was great and you were so lucky because she thought I would make a great father.

It was the first time you ever mentioned the thought of you and I and children. I still remember the look on your face.

It was happiness.

Contentedness.

And it was pride.

Memories Pt. 26

home, the first time

Fresh off the plane, I picked you up at the airport myself. We were both excited. You hadn't been away on a trip in a very long time. I hadn't been excited about a girl probably longer.

You agreed to travel so far without knowing me very well. It was a fools errand to ask, but you said yes none the less.

We hugged and kissed at the foot of the stairs. I had never done that before or since in my home town airport. It felt right, like you were coming home to me.

We went back to my parents, where I was staying. It was late, I don't think they were up. It wouldn't matter, the guest room was made up.

Arriving, I showed you your room, the bathroom and and a quick tour of the house. We whispered to keep from waking them, but I am sure they woke anyway.

We parted, each off to get ready for bed.

Doors closed, but lights on, with a glow coming from the crack beneath. The house was mostly silent. Turns taken in the bathroom, our paths didn't cross.

Darkness, as the lights turned off. Quiet and calm.

Minutes later, a faint rapping was heard. My door or yours, I am not sure, but it was quickly answered.

Door opened, in the darkness we touched, hand on hip or shoulder, ushering the other inside.

You climbed into the futon. A futon not built for two, but one that fit.

Secrets told and promises made, you stayed with me every night, creeping out after the house was silent.

Never once sleeping in that spare bed.

Plans Pt. 10

You wanted to travel. It was such a driving force in you. You hadn't had much opportunity since you were a child and you wanted to before you got too old.

I had done a little when I was younger, but not in a while. I always thought you were a little jealous of some of the places I'd been. I love to travel, but worried about the expense.

We had talked about a few places, Paris, South Carolina, some place warm and NYC.

We had barely touched the list and it felt so incomplete. It was something left unfinished.

I still plan to go to those places, but when I think of them I can't do it without thinking of you.

New York, Paris, all of them do not exist without you.

Memories Pt. 25

late winter early spring, on the highway near Belleville.

We were driving to visit your father. It was cold. Everything had thawed and refrozen. Your little green car always had problems with the heater. It was either inferno or arctic. You liked inferno. It hurt my eyes.

My hand was in your lap. It always seemed to end up there when you drove. You are such a good driver. Given the right opportunity you could have gone far. Indy or Daytona.

Laid across your thigh just above your knee. It wrapped around clutching the soft skin of your inner thigh. I loved how it felt on my hand and in my heart. The distance from seat to seat, over the brake and gearbox, seemed farther than most of our roadtrips. I couldn't help myself. I had to remain connected. Plus the way you moved those glorious legs as you drove made it so much more worthwhile.

Just outside Belleville, on a cold winter's night, relaxed, enjoying our music, heart by way of hand connected to you, this beautiful wonderful woman, that, with a thunderous thunk, the transmission fell out of your car.

We sat there. You tried the the car of couple of times, but it wouldn't take the gear. Eventually, you gave up and called CAA.

Waiting for the tow truck, it started to get cold. I made a couple of jokes and probably suggested something to keep us warm. You laughed at me as you always did when I suggested such things. It was a wonderful laugh and look. A look that said, stop being silly, you cute boy, that will never happen, but if you play your cards right we'll see later. I love that look.

We sat there in the dark, before he came and picked us up, and made us sit up front with him. Your coverage didn't get us far, just to the rest stop on the highway, but you had a plan. You always had a plan.

We called your father. It was late, but you knew he'd come. He would fix it.

Sitting in the McDonalds we both started doing work. It was going to be a long wait so why not.

That's how he found us, laptops open sitting close together, waiting. And he had Ann in tow.

Out we went to the car, to which he tied a stout rope and tied the other end to his car. Is he nuts, I thought.

'I'll tow you to the hanger', he said. He owns a plane so he has a hanger. It was only 60 km away at night in winter on country roads.

'You'll have to work the brakes so we don't crash", he told you. 'But don't stop too fast'

We got in the car, I could see you were scared, but you always trust your father. And you should, he is remarkable, like you.

Off we went.

Dark and winding roads, frost and fear. Light touches on the brakes, many little accidents that never seemed to happen. You stayed so focused. I was pretrified, but you never lost your cool.

We made it eventually, but not without a few minor mishaps. Nothing a tractor and man possessed couldn't solve.

We seemed to finally make it to your family home at three or four in the morning, all of us exhausted and cold, especially Ann.

Snuggling up together in your bed, trying to keep warm as we waited for the heat to kick in, I decided there and then I was going to be that strong for you, to solve your problems, to be the one that you called when you were in trouble. I didn't know how, but I was going to be that much better.

For you.

Memories Pt. 24

birthdays, past

I am not very easy to give gifts to. I tend to get anything I want for myself and rarely, it turns out, I give hints enough for you to figure out what I want.

You struggled with a number of birthdays and Christmas'. You were so stressed out it was painful to watch. You wanted to make everything perfect, but it wasn't necessary. I was so happy with everything you did.

You were so successful so many times. You gave me a photo I coveted months earlier and forgot about. I love that photo. It makes my heart hurt everytime I pass it

You also gave me lots of hot sauces. Something I love and love to share with you. You always bought them from the same shop on the Danforth. Different flavours and types. You sampled and chose well. I loved them all.

Tonight, running from the rain I ducked into a porch for shelter. Looking into the windows to pass the time I realized this was the shop.

You see, I had never been. You went there so many times for me. To provide for me; to make me happy. You always told me I would love it and we should go together, but we never did.

Staring into the darkened displays, wet and cold, waiting for the rain to abate, I wished you were with me, standing by my side, smiling. You see, in my mind we were about to go in, to sample their wares. You were excited, as you always get when you are about to show me something new.

In my mind, you just wanted to make me happy, just like oh so many times before.

Plans Pt. 9

I have always had a bunch of dreams about opening my own business. Back when I was much younger I used to talk about opening a small rep cinema with a café and a liquor license. Something tasteful and small that would be a destination for those folks that liked old movies, a glass of beer and possibly a sandwich or a salad. I don't think about it much anymore, but it comes back to me from time to time. Like tonight, for example.

For the longest while, I have always thought we would open your business. A clinic, most likely in Kingston, but some place downtown in a university town, where we could be part of a business community. Nice and tasteful, but urban and young.

I would manage the staff and the front and you would manage the care. We would be a team.

I didn't stop there. I knew you and your sister talked a lot about a coffee shop. Something fun and arty, with a community gallery and a place she could sell her jewellery and crafts.

It expanded in my head. We would do a small trade in used books and carry local bands' cds. Maybe even sell concert tickets. A café that was also a cultural hub for whatever town we lived in.

Wood and art everywhere, it was an incredible place, cozy and fun.

A place you would love to visit.

Plans Pt. 8

I never forgot it.

You mentioned it so early, but kept returning to it time and time again. It was one of those things that people think about, rarely, but think about it and make vague plans that they come back to at a later date, modify and store again, to repeat.

I remember one time when we talked about it, it became big. You had your ideas and in a fit of intrinsic mania I threw a giant loop into it, just to make it that much more wacky and weird.

But without the weirdness, I wanted to see the Carolinas with you.

You had vacationed there when you were a child and desperately wanted to share the beaches that you remembered with someone.

I wanted to be that someone. I had never been, but I so desperately wanted to change that.

To drive south, on the freeways and byways. To order grits and chicken fried steak in a roadside diner. To lounge on a southern beach and stay in motels and camp grounds.

All of those things I wanted to do.

To take that southern roadtrip with you. To be on the run, on the lam, whatever, heading south.

I wanted to do those things

I wanted to do them with you.

Memories Pt. 23

summer, vacation for one work for the other

I met you there while you were on a business trip. You suggested it, than changed your mind and when you were finally convinced to change back you bought into it fully, calling me all excited about everything. Have you always been this confused?

Before the door was fully opened, you were already showing off your room. It was too big for just one, must have been fate.

I had done my research, knew a couple of places to eat. You liked the idea of a date and chose the poshest one. It was also the closest but you were famished.

Off we went on an adventure. Only 3k to walk, no problem. You were sure it would help our appetites.

Both of us with GPS' in hand and still we got lost. Back and forth we walked covering the same ground over and over. Never getting frustrated; that wasn't our way. Talking and laughing like it was no big deal. Dinner would wait.

Finally, back to the hotel, cab called, off we went again. Funny, he didn't know where the place was either.

Server at the restaurant welcomed us as we, unaware, entered through the back door.

'Were you the folks that called and said you'd be ten minutes?', she asked.

Yes.

'That was over an hour ago', she chuckled.

It had become a comedy of errors, but that was part of the charm.

You love life's little adventures and love to share them.

I just loved being with you.

Memories Pt. 22

dead of winter, the Horseshoe tavern

It was a Tuesday and we didn't have anything to do. Heard about the new arts & crafts band Young Galaxy from a website or two and they were playing a free show on queen.

We bundled up and went down.

The Horseshoe was pretty empty and we threw our winter coats in the corner; grabbed a beer and listened to the other bands on the bill.

It wasn't until very late that the band we came to see came on the stage. We were both tired and didn't have much more money for beer. I had to work the next day, but didn't want to disappoint you.

They introduced themselves and then dove right in to a song we had never heard. At some concerts it takes a little while for the crowd and band to jive, but not that night.

We were leaning up against a pillar, me standing behind you. We both were en rapt, listening to a wall of sound that was oh so much more than a combination of its parts.

As you did many times since, you reached back and made sure I was still there. Touching my leg and keeping your hand there, for reassurance and closeness and especially the connection. You did that a lot at concerts and I loved it every time. Making sure I knew you were around and that you loved sharing the experience with me. It made me melt and puff out my chest.

I would instinctively touch you back, placing my hand on your hip, where it fit so well, and holding it there or brushing my thigh up against your bum. Anything to let you know I, too, was in that moment. With you.

I would often try my best to whisper something in your ear, but you'd often not hear. Ear plugs and loud music brushing my words off like pollen in a breeze. Landing somewhere unseen.

Concerts with you meant more to me than the music and show. They were times where we two became one in a room full of strangers, doing something we both loved with the one we loved.

A shared experience that we could smile about and relive later, when we were old and gray.

Today, I got some terrible news.

My first reaction was to call you.

But I didn't.

And I can't shake the feeling that I should.

Plans Pt. 7

I always expected we would end up in Kingston. You told me once you were worried I would want to move home. You couldn't live that far from your family, so it wasn't something feasible.

I never dreamed we would move there, but I never told you that.

I don't know Kingston at all, but it reminds me of my home and I would have been happy there.

Being close to your father would have been a treat and I would have looked forward to having him over for dinner and keeping him company when he got lonely.

I would have done anything to make you happy.

I still would.

Memories Pt. 21

summer, in the County. the first time.

The first time I actually got to go to the County it was raining, hard. I did most of the driving, and I am sure you were very confused by us making it there alive as you couldn't see anything for the entire trip. It was dark and the rain was coming down in sheets, but by the time we made it it had eased off.

We arrived at the trailer at night and I couldn't see anything or even get my bearings. We unpacked quickly, you turning on the water and power and me just firing things in from the car. Completed, we made our beds and soon were off to sleep.

The following day, it still rained, so we explored. We drove all over the County, visiting different places, following all the tourist signs. At Long Dog, we were turned off by the owner's pretentiousness and didn't even stay for a sample. You showed me the cheesemaker. Then we got lost down a country road, but eventually saw the sign for the cider maker.

Off we went to Waupoos to find us some cider. I don't think you had come down this road before. Passing orchard after vineyard and signs advertising a pancake breakfast we drove up the hill and finally found the old stone building of the cidery.

They treated us like gold, giving us free samples, talking up their different blends and brews. Admiring the best view of the county, we bought a bunch of bottles and wished them well, hoping to come back and try their cafe sometime.

And we came back, almost every time we went to the County.

It became our place, our little find that no one else had discovered.

Last night, in Toronto, I had a glass of Waupoos cider. Staring at the coaster as the bartender poured my drink, I couldn't help but think of you, of our life and our place so far from here and now.

And I missed you.

Memories Pt. 20

early the first summer.

Money wasn't the best. You were working part-time and I was paying for the house mostly by myself. I wasn't used to all the expenses of a girlfriend so money was tight. Tighter than at the end.

I needed a haircut, but didn't want to go see my barber. Mostly because I didn't want to pull myself away from you, but I also didn't want to spend the money.

I suggested it and you looked shocked like you didn't believe. You hadn't done it in a long time and felt the pressure of my job. To be honest, I was scared. I thought it would be fun, but I didn't think through the possible worst cases. I could have always shaved my head, but work may not have appreciated that.

So I asked you to cut my hair and got a chair and a towel and proceeded out to the patio. You hesitantly got the clippers and came out after me.

'Are you sure about this?', you posed.

What's the worst that can happen? I can always go get him to fix it or shave my head, I replied wrapping the towel around my shoulders.

And away we went, clippers buzzing, you shaking a little. You concentrating a lot.

I am not sure I have ever seen you concentrate like that, not doing a crossword or playing disc golf. You were totally enrapt, not wanting to screw up my head.

And it was fine. You did a good job. I didn't have to go see my barber or shave my head.

I was so proud of you and happy you did a good job. I hadn't had a woman cut my hair since my mother when I was a child and you had done her proud, no bowl cut here.

I should have let you do it more often.

Memories Pt. 19

fall or winter, after volleyball

We were at a pub with friends, having our post game drink and some food. The bill came and I smiled at you.

I love the mints here. They are giant lifesavers and are my favourite, I whispered to you.

I tried to grab them all, but backed down after the feigned look you gave me and let you have one.

Making our way to the car, I demolished six to eight of those tasty little things.

'Don't crunch them', you said. 'They'll last longer'

I can't help it, I muttered back.

You seemed to savour yours and even hid a couple in your purse.

Much much later, coming back from shopping you got giddy.

'I got a treat for you!', you could barely contain yourself, pulling out a giant bag of the giant lifesavers.

I was floored and ate a bunch, but you hid them in the candy drawer so I couldn't get all of them.

As time passed, like some sort of angel, you would hand me a candy when I least expected it. When I was driving you'd go into you purse and hand me one. After coffee, a jaunty 'would you like mint?' and one would appear. Sitting in a cinema waiting for the picture to start, you'd open your closed hand to reveal two or three sitting there glowing in the light from your smile.

You seemed to have them hidden in every purse, waiting. Waiting for a time you knew you could brighten my day.

But, you see, just having you there did that anyway.

Memories Pt. 18

lunches and dinners, early on

When we were both much younger and romance still trumped real life, I used to come visit you at work for lunches and dinners. Sometimes it would be a rest stop on my way to and from work, other times I would make a special trip. I would often bring food or fruit to make sure you had enough, other times we would go out.

There was no rhyme or reason.

Sometimes when I arrived, I would hang back a little and watch you while you worked. I loved watching you at work. Your true compassion and caring comes out. You were meant to help people. You chose well. I was so lucky.

When I finally came forward you'd always brighten and greet me with a 'hey you' and a smile which still makes my heart flutter.

I miss those lunches and dinners, sitting on a bench, people watching. I miss sharing salad and fruit. I miss the pain of tearing myself away.

I miss you.

Plans Pt. 6

For the last year I have been searching. Searching for something I have only seen, but I have never been able to find.

On the street, on the subway, at work. I have even approached women to ask for help, but to no avail.

I have been trying to find you the perfect pair of black Mary Jane flats. I think that is what they are called. I mean those rounded toe slip ons that have the strap that runs across the top of your foot.

You have a pair, but they hurt your feet. And you are always complaining about comfortable shoes for work.

I have never stopped looking and I don't think I will anytime soon.

I might find them and I may not, but I need to try.

Plans Pt. 5

You said once you had a vision of us walking with two boys. You never told me that when we were together. Only after we were apart.

I always thought we would have a boy and a girl. One of each. My mother would love a granddaughter. So one of each would be ok.

I never told you that.

Ever.

Plans Pt. 4

You always wanted to go to Paris.

I had been as a child, but I only remember very little. I remember cozy bistros and the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame and a seedy little hotel.

I was convinced we would go. Sooner or later, but probably sooner. If I hadn't proposed before we left, I definitely would have there. I even had it planned.

I was saving for a ring, which you kind of knew about, but we ended up spending that money of our vacation south. You didn't know about the tux.

I bought a tux on ebay. I am not sure how it fits as I have never opened it. I was planning on having it tailored, but you always said maybe.

I would have surprised you as your husband. I am sure of that.

You would have been happy.

Memories Pt. 17

summer or fall, the lakeshore

We got in your car and went for a drive. Bored I guess. You wanted to get out of the house and we didn't have much money or anywhere to go.

It was warm during the day and cooling off in the evening. I think you suggested 7-11. I am not sure why, but I think you wanted a treat. You knew I loved slurpees and I was going through a phase. I think you just wanted to make me happy.

We stopped there and stocked up, me with my slurpee, you with your hot chocolate/coffee mixture that you got from time to time when you were slumming it and amusing my junk food habit.

It was the story of our affair. I was warm and needed cooling off and you were cold and wanted to warm up. Just like when we were trying to sleep. So a slurpee and hot chocolate seemed to make perfect sense.

By the time we got down to the lake it was dark and deserted. We headed west of Sunnyside to the playground near the Bryers. You loved swings and I loved how happy they made you.

Sugar rush kicking in, we played on the swings to see who could go higher, until one of us got scared, you because the whole set started to shake or me because the swing I sat in didn't seem up to the capacity.

The teeter totter seemed more our speed and off we went.

You didn't seem used to having a fella that could pick you up and throw you around. Without much effort or warning up you shot as my end grazed the ground. I wouldn't let you down, teasing you while you giggled and struggled the entire time. Eventually, we did what we were supposed to and gently teetered and tottered until we both fell into a stupor of childhood memory.

Soon the sugar wore off and the night cooled so we wandered back to your car, pressed together, you trying desperately to climb inside me for warmth and me wondering how to make it possible.

Climbing into the car, I leaned over and kissed you, like many times before and many since, just wanting to impart some of the happiness I felt with you, some of the love I had for you and especially some of the warmth I had left on my lips.

Memories Pt. 16

living together

You took care of the house and I took care of you. I was amazed by the number of times I would come home and you wouldn't have eaten. You didn't seem to be able to cook for yourself, others yes, but not for yourself.

I would come home and you would be sitting there, killing time in front of the TV or listening to music.

Have you eaten, I would ask.

'Not really', you'd reply. 'I had some toast' or 'I had some chocolate'.

It scared me, but also made me feel like a man. You needed me. You needed me to take care of you. And you wanted me to.

I cooked for you every chance I got. I loved cooking for you. If I didn't have it in me to cook for you, I would make sure I got you a meal, either Indian or a roti or something special. I loved being able to provide for you, especially as I didn't feel like I had a lot of money. But I needed to do it for you.

I was convinced it made you happier. To feel like someone would lift you up and not let you do the bad habits that we all fall into.

It made me feel warm and needed and part of your life.

Memories Pt. 15

spring and summer, the beach.

It started at Sunnyside. I had been playing volleyball for years, indoors and out, through pain, fun and heartbreak. But at Sunnyside I got to play through love.

We hadn't been dating very long when you started to come down to watch. You loved to ride your bike and at first, I am sure, it was an excuse to ride down to the beach, your second favourite thing. If you had favourites.

But you did come to see me. We would speak on the phone and you'd say you'd come, but I never knew when you'd arrive. About half way through our second match, if I was facing the right way, I'd see you come around the corner of the pavilion. My eyes not being the best, I'd see the yellow beast first and slowly put your face on the rider as you approached. My attention would be gone, my heart would race and I would immediately try harder, knowing you were watching. Those were the lucky days.

Sometimes, we'd be facing the wrong way and I wouldn't know you were there until I heard your bell. That bell would ring and my heart would melt, my skin would flush and the hair would stand up on the back of my neck like some sort of divine pavlovian response. You see, I was smitten.

And you would be standing there, smiling, so happy to see your boy-whatever sweaty and sandy, running back and forth in front of a net. Trying his heart out to impress you with his mediocre skills. Afterwards, we would join the team for a drink and then head off on our own little adventures on our bikes, in the summer night.

Soon enough, you caught the bug. You wanted to play. Luckily, you had friends playing on a different night who needed a player and you, being you, dove right in just super excited to be there. And I followed you. I would come down every night to watch you play. Some nights I would find myself on the court helping out, but I prefered to watch you have fun. You just have such a wonderful spirit about you, carefree and open, willing to see the fun in everything.

Before long, we were playing together. It had its ups and downs. I was hard on you and you resented that, but I was so proud when you really started to improve. I never told you how proud I was of how you improved; how you got faster and willing to take more risks. No, not really risks, but chances. You took more chances because you started to know that you could. You knew that you'd be successful. And I was proud of that, too.

You play with you own team, far away from me now, but I know you still play with fire, with an eagerness to get better and I dream of seeing it, of seeing you.

I still play too, which you know, but I don't play with as much fire as I did. I lost some of the fun when I lost you. The laughter is gone. But tonight, tonight, it came back for a second, or maybe a piece of a second. You see, one of our teammates called out your name by mistake during a play and my heart turned over.

I died in that second.

You see, in that fraction of time, I remembered how much I wanted you there and then, well then I remembered that you weren't.

Memories Pt. 14

summer, in kingston

We were in the mall. You were desperately looking for a dress for a wedding we were invited to. Having no luck and coming down to the wire you finally found one and what a deal it was! You were so under budget that you got super excited and bought me two sweaters. I loved when you got excited. You became so radiant.

We continued to shop. Having nothing on our agenda and you seemingly having a surplus in your budget we went into every store worth entering.

At Guess or Buffalo, I don't remember which, we stumbled upon a sale. You grabbed some things and headed to the change room. I sat outside on a stool talking to you through the curtain as I always did.

Emerging, to give me a show, you were wearing that top. The backless ethereal patterned top with the billowie short sleeves.

My jaw dropped. You looked incredible, radiant and completely at ease. The shirt fit you perfectly. You spun around with a joyous smile on your face. Your lithe toned back finally had the right canvas to work. The tailoring revealed a hint of your tattoos. I was smitten. It was like two long lost relatives finally found each other.

'Is it too revealing?', you asked.

Not on your life, I thought. It is everything you are to me, playful, sexy, modest and fun.

No way, you have to get it, I said.

You did.

I think you wore it twice, but you took it out of the closet a bunch. You always seemed too shy or doubtful of your own beauty to wear it. Both stupid ideas. It made you look more amazing than you always did.

I loved you in it and loved you when you couldn't put it on.

Although those times I wished you could see yourself through my eyes.

Plans Pt. 3

summers, the County.

We drive a lot in the county. Going for cider and cheese or visiting town or friends.

You are the better driver, but I own the car, so...

I always thought I would win the lottery. I don't buy tickets very often, but I thought I would win, it would just take a little time. It didn't matter that the odds were stacked against me. I was going to win eventually. It had to happen because it would make our lives easier. Driving in the car through the county, I had lots of time to think about how to spend the money.

There is a house, off set from the road, in Cherry Valley. It was obviously built new on a huge piece of land overlooking East Lake. Everytime I drove past I knew I had to buy that house for you. If I couldn't buy it I would rebuild somewhere earby.

Your family has summered in the County for so long. You love it and you made me love it. I knew I had to buy property for you there, either from Chuck Slik or another agent, but I had to get that for you.

So, as we drove, I was plotting where I would put our house if I couldn't buy the one I liked. The next best location was on the river from Milford. The north side seemed pretty sparse, only farms and I thought I could cajole a farmer to give use some river front property.

If not, the south side had some places that I thought I could get.

I planned the house in my head. Knowing only the outside, I planned an open concept with lots of windows, a covered patio all around, sunroom on the back facing the water and a dock and boat launch for the grandfathers and kids. It would have a garage and a guest house off to the side. Yes, a guest house! As I knew we would entertain. Visions of my folks coming up in winter to see us and our kids during the holidays. A guest house with a couple of suites so that we would always have room. Your sisters or brother would have a place to stay. Or a nice home for your Dad and Ann when they weren't away on one of their trips. Close to his friends, but private enough.

Brick, it would all be made out of brick, looking like all the old farm houses we saw when we drove.

I was hoping to have it built without you knowing. I wanted to surprise you. I even had visions of the phone calls I would have to make and not let you hear.

All of this while I was driving.

Memories Pt. 13

evenings, summer and fall.

From the beginning I knew about you and your bike. We talked about it a lot and most of our early nights were spent meeting places on two bicycles, one yellow and one gray.

Riding behind me you'd always ring your bell to make sure I knew you were still there. I got into the habit myself. If I was behind you, I would often speed up and try to get next to you, close. Close enough so I could touch your side or brush your arm.

Later, when you were staying over, you'd always ring your bell when you arrived at the front door. Just to let me know you were here.

I came to love that little ring.

Now, at night sitting in our house, when I hear a bicycle bell I think its you.

And you are coming home.

Memories Pt. 12

movie cinema.

I made you go to Miami Vice with me. I was a huge fan as a kid and love Michael Mann. I knew it would probably suck, but I wanted to see it.

You said yes with a smile. You would try anything, always with a smile.

We went and the movie wasn't very good, but there was a moment. A moment in the middle where Crockett meets up with his new girl, the drug dealing accountant. They look at each and say, 'hola, amigo' and 'hola, amiga'.

In the dark of the theatre, you turned and looked at me, squeezing my arm. I looked at you, squeezing your thigh where my hand usually was.

It was just like us.

You will always be my muchacha. And I will always be your muchacho.

life with her was filled with...

contradictions to untangle.
deepness to penetrate.
walls to break through.
habits to respond to.
sparks to share.
comfort.
hope.
love.

Memories Pt. 11

the annex, at a birthday party.

We party hopped all night. One of your friends first and a few drinks. Then made our way to a friend of friends for a birthday party.

We had to bring a gift of sayings or platitudes or advice for the birthday boy. We had spent the afternoon hanging out and getting art supplies. I worked on mine all afternoon, you did yours in a hour. You had a knack.

We didn't really know anyone at the party. Both of us were a little drunk on wine and didn't really want to shmooze. We hung back. Just as we had all day, together. Enjoying each other more than the rest of the world. We were inseperable.

A quiet word, a giggle or two and we found ourselves alone with all the coats. Time for us, away from the noise.

Foolish and care free, we lived in the moment and lived for each other.

Memories Pt. 10 and Plans Pt. 2

by the ocean, the first time not the last.

Early on, I convinced you to come with me home. It was all so exciting and yet so new. I can't believe you said yes and came.

We spent two days by the sea. Two days of solitude, just getting to know each other. Feeling things out. I learned you were a master fire builder and that you collected rocks and shells for your mother's garden.

No electricity, only lanterns and fires and lots of blankets and quilts. Nights by the fireplace or down by the beach, roaring bonfire, drinking wine and nestling up together in the shelter of a beach rock.

Shopping at the general store in the small town, walking on the beach. Showing you my life, my childhood. You took a picture that is glorious and peaceful, the best I have seen from the front window. Sunny and warm, it breathes comfort.

I always thought we would take our children there. Show them my life, since they would see so much of their mother's. Spend a week there in the summer, swimming and catching fish, playing in the river, boiling mussels on the beach. Nothing but love and nature and family.

Just like I did when I was child.

Just like we did that summer.

Memories Pt. 9

Spring, high park.

The first night.

I had been lonely for a long time, but I had only recently been ready to not be alone.

We had met online and chatted for a month before we got the courage and skill to meet.

You suggested frisbee in the park, I agreed, plotting more in the back of my head. This girl was special and I was ready to treat her as such.

We met outside the subway station, you holding your yellow beast and glowing, me holding my knapsack being shy, stooping a little and trying not to stare at my shoes.

Later you would say that when you saw my all stars your heart did a little flutter. 'This boy is cute'

We wandered into the park, finding our spot, which we returned to many times later to throw the frisbee around. I hadn't in years, but we were both very forgiving.

We meandered and talked, trying to feel each other out. Down we went past the zoo and the jungle gym into the big field below.

This is a pretty good spot, I think I said.

'For what?'

I came prepared. Opening my bag, pulling out quilt and cups, olives and wine and a bunch of cheese.

Picnic, I said.

We lay in that park, drinking our wine, eating our cheese for hours, until the sun went down, talking and laughing until it was time to leave.

Slowly, walking out of the park, up the hill, I stopped, touching your arm, and kissed you. Tentatively, soft and sudden. It surprised you and you said as much.

I told myself I wouldn't worry and I should act more when I think I should do something, I blurted unconvincingly.

'That's a good philosophy' you smiled.

I melted. Wanna go get another drink?

'Ok'

I think I started loving you right there, in the dark of that park on that night oh so many years ago.

Memories Pt. 8

nights, at home and abroad.

Sometimes on the couch, but mostly in the bed. She falls asleep.

And I lie there and watch, listen and fall in love.

You have a love affair with sleep. Cat naps, bedtimes, resting your eyes; you could fall asleep anytime.

'I have to keep moving or I fall asleep' you would say. I never believed it, until it started happening.

Nights were the best. You would pretend to read, holding your book at a creditable angle with a firm hand, bundled up in cozy sheets. Your eyes would droop a little, flutter and eventally close. Your jaw would ease, the tension leaving your perfect face. Your mouth opening ever so slightly revealing the mouth guard you have to wear at night. Your breathing would soften and steady with an ever so slight whisper as it passed your lips.

The book would never waver. Held firm, I would have to pry it from your hands making sure not to lose your page.

Generally, you wouldn't stir. You would wander off to slumberland in peace. Contentedness written across your unfurrowed brow.

Eventually, I would start to nod off. Knowing an unwinnable cause, I would turn off the light, shimmy flat and lean in to you, slinking my arm over your tummy, pushing my chin into your nape. Knowing something was different, you would turn, unconscious or not, pushing yourself back into me, gently clutching my arm to insure I wouldn't get away and would keep you warm and protected through the night.

Barely stirring, I would hear it. Like a voice in a cave or an empty church. Soft and free, enveloping me, making me warm and instilling peace. Barely above the whisper of your breathing, clutching me tighter, you would purr, 'Muchacho...'

With one word, all my cares were gone.

It was rare that I would sleep first. It happened, but not very often.

Memories Pt. 7

Summer afternoon, in the county.

I imagine we got up late, but I could be wrong. We definitely made breakfast, eggs, veggie links, special potatoes fried for a long time in garlic and lots of seasonings, a cup of coffee from the tiny little coffee pot. Everything shared, the way it is supposed to be.

Dishes done and drying. Kitchen clean. Music coming from an ipod by way of your tivoli. Whose? Not sure, at this point all the music blends together, so much shared that we wouldn't be able to tell even if we wanted to.

Lazy day, muffled conversations come from other trailers. Sometimes the calm is shattered by an atv, but not too often.

Sudoku in my hand, crossword in your's. I do sudoku, not 'cause I love it, but because of the way it accesses my brain. Doing the puzzle isn't hard. It is just a matter of following the steps. There isn't too much thought and definitely not hard work. It lets me be active but also free.

Free to listen to you. You are still learning the tricks; the common clues to crosswords. Every once in a while you ask for help and I switch left brain, right brain and back again. Sudoku lets me do that.

I love watching you figure out your crossword. I could watch it all day. You are cute and determined. Writing your ideas down next to the clues until you are sure.

Later we'd do them together. You always write. I just help. Cuddled up on the couch, in a cafe knees pressed together, lying on a hotel bed, relaxing on the beach, jammed into one half of the trailer's dinette. Heads pressed together

Chicago trains (3)

A tower in Pisa does it (5)

Japanese metropolis (5)

I still find them when going through the house. Half done, almost finished, barely started. Rolled up crosswords with scribbles and notes.

Pieces of you.

Efforts and thoughts.

Forever etched on yellowing newsprint.

Plans Pt.1

I am a quiet guy, sometimes shy. Oftentimes that comes across as angry which I am rarely.

I get scared and have worries and live inside my head too much. Some have called it overly analytical which is true.

I am not very good at making plans. I tend to be very reactive. I am not sure if it is laziness or just how my mind works, by I tend to react instead of act.

But where would we be without plans?

Plans are like the complement to memories. Memories are all the things that happened in your past, while plans are the memories of the future. Those dreams and ideas that you hold on to, that you work towards.

For the past day, I have been fixated on a plan I had that I have not told anyone. This plan is probably never ever going to happen, but I can't get it out of my head.

In hindsight, it was a fantasy. It was a 3 minute event that would take place in some nebulous future. It had a lot of moving parts, but I thought it would be perfect and would say a lot about me and my partner in crime, and surprise her as well. But it would take two to tango and as I said I never told a soul.

But losing it hurts none the less.

Memories Pt. 6

mornings, any day.

Sometimes I was up early, sometimes you left me sleeping in our bed.

They never changed. They only got better.

When I had to get up first, I hoped I would wake up seconds before the alarm would sound, so I could leap out of bed and turn it off, not waking you. Shave, shower and dressed, I would return to our room, catching a glimpse at the sleeping beauty that lay there before me.

Crawling ever so lightly over all the cats, I would inch in so I could lay the softest kiss possible on your forehead or cheek, trying with all my heart not to wake you.

Every morning I would start my day with failure.

You would always stir, ever so slightly, and, not opening your eyes, whisper through mouthguard and sleep, 'Have a nice day, muchacho'

My heart would melt everytime. And everytime I could do nothing but obey.

On those mornings where I was lucky enough to sleep in a little, I would lie there dead to the world, trying desperately to stay asleep while watching you get dressed; a peak at a secret show.

After all your morning rituals you, too, would turn back to the bed, leaning in, and kiss me on my head.

'Have a nice day, muchacho', I would hear through fog and dream. I would smile and turn and head back down to slumberland fully engulfed by the heat and love carried by those words.

Memories Pt. 5

Warm summer night in the not too distant past.

Peppermint tea and a patio swing.

Talking and touching like we always have. Heads resting together; arm around shoulder. Two soul mates waiting to get old.

Comfortable and content, like sitting in the car watching jets land. Or in a dark cinema sharing a film.

Moments that many would kill for, we had in spades.

Memories Pt. 4

out of town, in the County.

Driven past so many times, you point to it every one.

"There's the drive-in!"

I haven't been to one in years. Since I was eighteen. Don't even remember the film.

"My family used to come all the time. We'd all pile in the van. Four kids and mom and dad."

Everytime, but this night was different.

We went to the drive-in.

The sunlight was dying slowly. We got there right before the rush and got a pretty good spot until the pickup parked in front of us. Oh well. It was still a pretty good spot.

The wizened hippy owner was puttering around on his ancient motorcycle. From screen to screen and back to the snack shack.

Waiting in line for treats, plus a small cache in the car. Diet coke and two straws.

The old guy's announcer voice on full, well-practiced and sure. Horns blaring to welcome the show.

Thinking ahead, you brought a blanket and pillows. I love that you always bring a blanket and pillows.

Small touches under the blanket, each of us trying to edge closer but wary of the brake and shift.

The movie didn't matter. It could have been much worse than it was and still it would have been the best movie I have ever seen.

Memories Pt. 3

Afternoon bike ride to High Park.

Down Lansdowne, over the Dundas bridge to Howard Park.

You stop. I go.

Traffic coming down Dundas. I was careless I guess. Didn't look down, just into your eyes. Could read it on your face before gravity took over. But your eyes told a different story.

My wheel jammed in streetcar tracks. Down I went. Elbow first, then shoulder... Wham! followed by head. Lucky I was wearing a helmet, I guess.

Shock to the system, but all I see is the car getting closer. Wheels heading my way.

Jump up. Grab the bike and run to the curb. Embarrassment sets in before the blood starts to flow.

Scrapes and cuts up and down my arm; layer of skin left on the street.

Words flow fast looking for reassurance: Areyouok? Areyouok? Areyouok?

Fine. But your eyes still tell the story.

We ride on, not making it further than than Roncee.

Snooty coffee shop to order drinks before I mess up their restroom. Brown paper towels are not conducive to first aid.

You feed me some cookie and some tea, helping me through as the adrenalin wears off and soreness sets in.

I will never forget how your eyes still told the story
of what you would do if.

Memories Pt. 2

A cool autumn afternoon.

Pingle's Fun Farm near Clarington.

She introduced me to apple picking. Ripe old age of 33 and never picked an apple 'til that day.

Bags full we climbed on the wagon for a hay ride; tickling kids with straw.

Next stop pumpkin patch. 3 year olds love picking pumpkins.

Into the barn for fudge and hot chocolate.

Back of the van, sleepy on the way home.

Memories Pt. 1

A warm spring day.

I had to close at work, so I had to leave to drive to Oakville in the afternoon.

We met at High Park and went for a walk.

Lay on the grass under a tree at the top of a hill for what felt like forever.

Content.

My head in her lap. Looking at the clouds. We laughed and people watched.

We were so close. So together.

I was in love with her then like I am now.

Alone...

As soon as it began, it is done.

Where do I go from here? That is a question with too many answers and my mind is too full of thoughts and feelings that I can't even process past today.

There are times when my memory is a curse. Not being able to forget things has been very useful, but not now. Now it is like being locked in a very small room with a swarm of angry bees; buzzing around me, stinging where they can.

First kisses, soft touches, smiles, words.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

Parks and clouds, beaches and laughter.

Buzz, buzz.

Bundling up under blankets on cold nights.

Buzz.

All of them just as if they were yesterday.

get a job in an industry where a smile is not required...

The good that I am going to do... is much more than the good I have done.

This I have to believe in.

Have to...

Where would I be without.