to keep doing things

thank you for showing up

there are only 3 people at morning water besides me. which is funny because i was so worried about my dad not making it this morning. worried that after five weeks of showing up, without him, it would feel off and wrong. but i forgot to worry about what if no one shows up at all.

i’m not sure what to write about today. the sun is out again and the days are warm which means i’ve forgotten that there is anything to write about at all.

instead i want to sit in the grass and look at the sun.

on sunday night i was at ridgewood commons, as i often am, and from inside of that room the big doors were open and without knowing, without seeing, i could tell that the sunset was wonderful. i slipped out, in the middle of the general assembly, to see the sky in all its sweetness. i convinced my friend, dora, to come with me and together we stood and looked at the cracks in the clouds and the feathering pinks and purples surrounding us. she said, when i was young i used to call this a peach pie sky.

i think that’s what she said. my favorite part about writing is storing my memories and trusting they are at least mostly right.

when you make friends as adults it’s easy to forget that they were once just as much a kid as you were. i liked imagining a young dora looking at the sky and pointing out the peach-ness of it all.

we went back inside and i whispered to my crush who happened to be there that night, as she often is, go outside and look at the sky. she responded silently with a quiet nod and made her own path outside. from between the many heads inside the room i could see a slice of her outside. i saw the way she turned her face towards the setting sun and i watched her wrap her arms around her shoulders and lean her cheek into the crease of her elbow and arms. she was giving herself a hug underneath the peach pie sky. i thought this is ridiculously romantic. and only i know that.

she came back inside with an idea for a block party and my small moment of dreamy romance was transformed to excited collaboration and it stayed that way for the rest of the evening. romance and dreams weaving in and out.

when my longest relationship ended i soothed my anxious mind by thinking about all the relationships that managed to remain longer than that one. some reminders came from relationships that started way before i knew my partner. others were relationships that were younger once but have surpassed ours now. this thursday i am celebrating two years of ridgewood commons writing workshop. a workshop that was at first an idea between myself and alex, but has maintained through the commitment of many other writers who showed up that first week two years ago. writing workshop, which was born just two months after my relationship started, now has grown just slightly older. it’s comforting to remember that i am able to make sustained and long term commitments. to trust that others will make commitments to me, and to remember that things don’t always come to an end.

in that room at woodward avenue on sunday night, with the peach pie sky i was surrounded by faces that stayed. writing workshop faces and dinner faces and faces i see at pantry or at bake sales or at random elaborate themed parties. some faces that i often just happen to see on the street. there were many months where i missed attending dinner completely. there were periods where i couldn’t balance my work schedule and my writing schedule and so my face didn’t show up in that great big room at all. it was always a lesson in patience. a lesson in trusting. that i will come back and when i do it will be with acceptance. to be welcomed. a practice in the what would you tell your friend theory.

come back when you’re ready

i went to my first sunday dinner in a moment of depression and dejection and other synonyms for being low. i went with nafe which turned our friendship from one of convenience into one of greatness. we made a commitment to each other to keep going. and we did. when she didn’t go i learned what it meant to commit on my own. and i made commitments to others like andrew and dora and giuseppe and later to eddie and kathryn and other people who are faceless here but clearly imagined inside of my own mind (another of my favorite things about writing).

i learned, eventually, there is no feeling quite like being gone and returning to a curious room.

i’m proud of myself for continuing to come back. to always showing up when i can.

i’m not sure that this piece is about much more than just being present. in looking at the sun and the horizon like the clouds are a peach crust and the sun, fruit, spilling out the sides.

🥧☁️☀️🌀🥧☁️☀️🌀🥧☁️☀️🌀🥧☁️☀️🌀🥧☁️☀️🌀🥧☁️☀️🌀🥧☁️☀️🌀🥧☁️☀️🌀🥧☁️☀️🌀🥧☁️

thank you for showing up

for me.