June 30, 2009

 

I had forgotten about the passion fruit...and for some reason I still want to call them pomegranates, even though you educated us on the difference...

But I remembered when I saw the pic, that pic of the glossy, globby bits of seeds you tried to convince us was a taste of pure bliss,... but all that we could see were "tadpoles"...

I looked deeper and saw you in a rut, not just any rut, but a big rut that you drove straight into and somehow managed to climb out of...

I read the words,... your words,... and it's as if you were standing beside me and reading them to me over my shoulder.

Serious words, silly words, words that wrapped around ones tongue and followed a path that lead us to your thoughts. Thoughts you were kind enough to let us see and experience along with you.

Sometimes you added pictures, gloriously colored pictures, but your words already painted a picture for us...

I was jealous of hairbugs...going places, seeing places, experiencing places....as much as a stuffed bear could see and experience...

I stole a moon picture from your blog,... not to claim as my own, but to post here....your moon, ...and as you saw it one night and wondered and basked in it's glowing light...

I have your letter, not an e-mail but a real letter, that you sent to me after one evening of chatting and how I moaned that no one writes letters any more, and how letters were so much more tangible than e-mails....And so you wrote me a letter in your own flowing writing that I knew had passed thru your hands into so many others and finally ended up across the world in my tin-colored mailbox like a small miracle upon it's safe arrival.

I have the pics you sent, I still have some of your e-mails, and even an opened jar of vegemite that I can't seem to bare to part with even though I never could seem to acquire a taste for it's salty flavor...

I have memories of our late night chats...the instant messages, the giggles, the smiles, and the hugs....

I learned what gobsmacked meant...

I sit here and I try to find the words and they don't come so easy...I keep reading your written words to try and absorb them and you, and I keep feeling the anxiousness as if they are slipping away with you...I read the words from your entry of November...the 3rd of 2006 (has it really been that long ago?)...

I keep rereading that entry, because if ever there were the words that described you it was in those few sentences. It's hard to condense ones life into just words, whether describing your own or someone elses...

But it's the words that I miss the most,...those thoughts set to paper or to the keyboard that traveled the world that let us, ...me, ...know you...

Thank you Poss for you and your words...