Patterns
I knew this woman in college. I don't know what it was about her.
Well, maybe I do. She had this funny litle twist in her smile that
emanated warmth. She was thoughtful. She didn't take as good of care
of herself as she should have- that kept me and this other guy that
cared about her on our toes. Its funny- we both wanted her, but I
don't think we were jealous or competitive. We figured, it was up to
her- maybe she'll choose one of us. She didn't, but that was OK, too.
She liked to sleep in a tree out on the edge of a field sometimes, she
told me. I knew where the tree was, but never went looking to see if
she slept there. I took it on faith. One time we took a walk down to
the river. We sat and watched the currents. It was fall. I saw the
patterns in the water, she saw the interplay of colors. It was a
complementary relationship. I wonder how life turned out for her. I
take it on faith that she is often melancholy, and at the same time
still always appreciative of the beauty around her.
I hitched 350 miles to Madison to see her once. She was finishing
school there. She was so appreciative that I had thought enough of her
to do that, and she cared enough about me, that she thought twice
about me, at least for a moment or two. Versus the Danish man she had
met that summer. She moved to Denmark after she graduated. It is a
bittersweet image I keep of her trying to carve a life for herself in
Denmark. She wrote to say she married him because she had to, in order
to stay there. She loved the place. She sent me a postcard of the
chapel at Elsinore, where Shakespeare had Hamlet live. It seemed
appropriate.
Chamber
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