All the chairs will be filled…
I came up with that sentence, and the coda: “at my funeral” on the phone the other day. I guess that that sounds morbid. But everything we say is an exhalation. It is a breathing out that is necessary in order to get another lungful. I just caught the end of “Annie Hall”, and though I don’t want to say that that sentence is my new Mantra, but it does make me feel good. Focused. Calm. Yes calm. Because so much of the recent past has been full of regret for me. Regret, mostly, for what I gave up by leaving where I really was the coziest I’ve ever been.
Don’t get me wrong. I had to get out of Annapolis. I abhor sedentariness like nature abhors a bag vaccuum. But going back…
Going back to Annapolis is like being able to eat all those delectable deserts in the diner’s showcase, even after downing the entire left side of the menu.
The point I think I was getting at with the beginning of this post is that I have been racking myself, bastinado-ing myself. For I am far from alone, and I could not sever the bonds I have, stretched up and down the seaboard, even if I only continue to be the “wry” in the occasional martini, at the occasional party.
So I’ll get to explaining this. . . One of these days.
For now, the short version of how much fun it was to be in Annapolis is found at the right ->.
It was that much fun to see Loretta, Lou, Talley, Mac, Alex & Beth, Matt & Cameron, & Jo Ella. It was a joy I refuse to lose. Refuse more than I need to go to sleep.
The best example of “enjoying oneself” I ever saw was Gerard not even making it into the waltz party, because it was so much fun to just hang out on the railings.
Always lean on a railing. You never know when you won’t have one.
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