Michael is away on another business trip in St. Petersburg, Florida courtesy of the Bill Gates Foundation. I have gotten used to it this summer. His little mini trips away have afforded me some alone time and food orgies. Good. Still, this 120 year old Painted Lady Victorian home gets even bigger when he is away. It makes noises and creeks even from a calm wind. The squirrels antics on the roof and in the attic are amplified. Their fast little pitty-pats pound like thunder. I'll have to admit, I turn on all the lights at night and leave all the televisions blaring when alone here. Bright house. Distraction. Alone, not lonely.
The cats are a great source of entertainment, but they really can't answer my questions, engage in conversation, or fetch me another glass of wine. I have to get my own wine. A woman's work, this old house, when alone.
So, on this particular night, as my fangled food orgie concoction simmers away on the stove, I can't help but think back to our time together on the ship a few weeks back.
We always venture to the top decks of our ships in the late late hours of the night when all the exhausted families are tucked into their bottom-dwelling cabins and gamblers are bellied-up to their poker tables, roulette wishes, and slot machines. Thousands of passengers simply vanish at night. It's always quiet up there on those decks. Empty. Full of us.
We walk, lounge, drink, talk, and even hold hands. Black sky. Black water. The only light coming from the ships themselves. Glowing orbs in the middle of the sea.
Captivating.
I sometimes wonder what our ships must look like in the darkness from far away as they move slowly with light trailing behind quietly cutting through the waves.
I imagine they must look much like our glowing house on a dark street in our dark nieghborhood when Michael is away.
That puts him here with me, then.All is good.
Say a prayer in the darkness for the magic to come
No matter what it seems
Tonight is what it means to be young.
-Streets Of Fire
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