September 27, 2005

12:30 a.m.

Monday, Late at Night

Watched "The Notebook" at Rose and Mike's tonight. I like love stories; perhaps because on some level I still believe in love. Perhaps because I don't, and so movies are appropriate places to find it.

I breathe and think about my mother, how I'm becoming like her in discernable ways. She lived alone for the last 20 years of her life, finding her way, painting the trellis, making curtains. She'd had two marriages, one short, one long; both ended badly. She was broken and mended and strong and independent and funny, and compassionate and caring. She was true to her many friends. She loved pajamas. I see myself getting older and living alone, loving it but aware that I haven't made a life with someone. Wondering what the ramifications will be in later years. True love: is there really a portion for every soul?