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10:55 p.m. - 04/18/03 In future news, remember the school that was supposed to be my Plan B? Sara's going there. Sara, my Sara (by the way - hey sweetie, if you're reading this, stop because this is the one journal people who know me can't read- thanks! love!) ... I talked about making her come to Hampshire with me; now she's saying we have to go to New College. And it doesn't sound like a demand. It doesn't sound like an order; it sounds like something oh-so-beautiful. My own white sand beaches. My own region of the nation. My own world with a girl I'll carry like a favorite flower, transplanted, roots and all. And I'm scared for her (and for me) and I hope that we don't go until we're ready, but if we were healthy and went, I can't describe how good that could be. She talks about not wanting to die, and I tell her I want to hold onto her so tightly it would be impossible. We both know better than that, though, so I asked her, in my fear, how she plans to be ok, and she said because she's trying as hard as she can. Why would we do anything less? she said, and of course that's true. She wants it so much, and I want her so much; I want to know that she's only in the dangers a girl without a deadly illness would be in. I want to know she can't be taken away from me, but I don't, and there's no way to secure the situation. I want to wrap her up in Dave and her mom and somewhere that isn't her house, so I can see her get better. ...And also, I want Dixie to call me back and tell me why she's in the hospital, and what the hell I can do. And then I want to fall, exhausted, next to someone, who'll play gently with my hair or tired skin. It's not too much to ask. We'll make this work. I missed today's attempted RED call in the chaos of the shopping. I think I'll try tomorrow, if people aren't around constantly, and if not, I'll make sure I don't quit trying entirely. That's the point. To keep trying until I get through. I have to get through. I have to connect to them again. I can't help where my home is, or how badly I need it. I can't help knowing that the photo on their website is at the wrong angle, that no one who's lived there would say that looks right. This is the first time I'll have to pack most of my RED things; the day I left, I sort of just put them all in the car. I want to wrap them all up, too, which I suppose is a little more possible than a person or a history. Sara says if we feel it this deeply after this long, it's not possible we'll lose it, and I think that has to be right. We know our love for Tracy was real because we still cry over her after so much time. We know our love for home was real because we still think of it in heartsickness and health. And I've realized that this layout really is me. It really does fit; I do belong here. Something of my strength I haven't represented in design, some other angle, is visible here. And I can say red isn't my color all I want; I can talk about those oceanic blues until the tide comes in...but we all know that RED is more real to me than anything else. And we all know I'll keep it that way if I have to live in a manner almost impossibly bizarre. I just want to live in some manner, in mine. I just want to live and have my friends live, too. And that shouldn't be too much to ask; it's just not. And I love her, so maybe I'll focus on that for awhile. Maybe I'll focus on how much I love her, and how much that does for us both. chord � � |