Dawn broke to the first notes of the Cardinal that resides in the nearby trees. Although I’ve not seen him yet, he’s been increasingly more vocal over the last week; sure sign that spring has sprung.

The Village was silent, but for his song.

Now the night comes to an end, and the light returns, and everyone begins their slow, or sometimes rushed morning routine.

However, I have the day off. I will not rush, and I have no plans. Irish shall be walked, although rain showers may prevent it from being a long walk.

Today I find I don’t get as worked up about things as I did not that long ago. I feel contented.

Crossroads Man says I look more confident.

And, another milestone, of sorts – this last March 1st, did you realize, it’s been a year since I met Crossroads Man?

Since that Sunday Night when I sat down beside him and asked what were you doing when you were 6 years old, I’ve learned a lot more these 365 plus days. And, he certainly is the epitome of an odd bird. I don’t really know if I can describe him?

Let me see. His abode has seen better days. I mean, underneath that leaky roof, lives a rare collection of…em…collections of…collections of plastic cartoon characters spanning the ages of trinket merchandising, model airplanes, trains, matchbook cases, and vintage medicine bottles. Within the dingy, cave-like hovel, I am in awe of all the things he collects. Hoard, much? Em. Maybe. Possibly.

He certainly does make our family look like rank amateurs, least when it comes to keeping shite no one else would keep.

Another thing I’ve learned is that things are attracted to him.

Just this summer I was over at his place having a beer, hanging out by his stoop. I had just said something to him about the tree in his backyard, and out from god knows where come two male cardinals, battling it out as they flew. Zigzagging left and right, and then they in unison swooped up over the top of the garage, and gone.

It was one of those HOLY SHIT?!! sort of moments.

That sort of stuff happens at his place all the time. Few days after the cardinals, two monarchs swooped through and did the same thing.

He is a collector of things, but I suppose it’s because things are just attracted to him.

And he is a certified lone wolf; by choice.

Plus, his best friend is one of only two women he has ever lived with. It says a lot that they remained friends. She has a daughter from the man she was with after they broke up. I guess she grappled onto the first fella that came along, married him and had a child.

Crossroads Man says that girl of her’s should have been his. I just nod my head.

She and he are best friends, you can tell. Which I guess is one of the reasons I still keep him at arm’s length. I’m not sure yet if he and I want the same things.

I suppose I do fit a role in his life, though – she his best friend, me the lover, and another woman he’s known for 25 odd years…em…I suppose we can put her in the old naggy wife role (from what I have observed of their whacked out relationship). Yes, he hasn’t stopped seeing the other woman. She has COPD, and not doing well, and yadda, yadda, yadda. Anyways, that woman is the other one he lived with. For 6 months, but that was over 20 years ago.

Notice a slight pattern? He doesn’t throw ANYTHING away.

You know? I am not jealous of these women.

Part of me wonders if I have perhaps deluded myself all these years, pinning away for that ideal romance thingy, that divine love I’ve craved since I hit puberty.

I’m not sure any longer I need that sort of love. Or, want it.

Love, maybe doesn’t have to be like a sudden and passionate embrace? That love can be slow, and cautious, and gradual, and not pushy? Love can be about letting what will be, just be?

Do you think that’s even possible?

I’m just letting it all go its own way. Besides, I don’t want to miss a thing.

You know Mom? I’ve really come to understand that happiness isn’t gained by what you think you need. Sometimes it comes only by appreciating what we have here and now.

Well, a crow has added its voice to this dawn chorus. As light rises in the eastern sky, the village is still gray, and one of the workmen from across the road just went by in his safety jacket.

The streets of the village have come alive.

ACT II SCENE II Capulet’s orchard.
[Enter ROMEO]
ROMEO He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
[JULIET appears above at a window]

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

Shakespeare

Well, guess I just needed to share some of my thoughts with you this morning. One thing I can say for sure about him, I know he would never just throw me away. There is a lot of comfort in that. And, who knows, maybe he’ll show me how to be a lone wolf.

Love,