lunches with L
as the week moves forward, i'm finding that the car accident has affected me more than i'd like to admit --- even to myself. i've been reaching for things in my life that make me feel secure and that put my universe back in the place it should be after the spiral it was sent into on tuesday morning. CM and i have been spending some quality friend time together; i've been reconnecting with a friend who is beginning work on her art history masters thesis involving her great aunt's complete ouvre of early 20th-century paintings; i've been more open with my crewmates (quite a feat at 5:30 in the morning, i assure you); i've been talking to my mom with a little more regularity; i've also been indulging in perhaps a little too much diet cherry vanilla dr. pepper, hence the chattiness. one other such therapeutic venture is having lunch with my friend L. we usually arrange these rather impromptu lunch dates every month or so and spend a couple of hours catching up on each other's lives. L, the friend with the jewelry budget i talked about in a previous post, is completely unaware of how the timing of these lunch dates has coincided with rather cataclysmic events in my personal life; i feel as if i were to confess this fact to her, the magic of these lunches would quickly disappear. i don't think she's aware of my blog, so i'm probably safe discussing it here.
my life was sent into a bit a tailspin when i had my heart broken in february. the morning of the breakage i was saved from myself by meeting with L, who i hadn't seen in at least a semester. in talking to her and catching her up on what was going on in my life (i didn't talk about the broken heart -- i was afraid if i did i might come a little unglued), i was forced to put everything that had happened in the last 36 hours into perspective. suddenly what had moments ago been a chasm that i didn't think i could cross appeared to be more of a crack in the sidewalk that i could easily step over. i'm not sure if she suspected something was up, what with my rather disheveled look and red-rimmed eyes; if she did she never let on. in talking about schoolwork and conferences and her kids and her band (yes, she's that cool; she plays in a funky little band) the pain never really went away, but it did take the form of something i knew how to manage.
L and i met for lunch another day, down by the waterfront in the late spring. the sun was warm and we both perched a little chic-ly on a bench wearing trendy sunglasses and sunning ourselves while eating our packed lunches. again, my heart was the problem because of the potential for a repetition of what happened in february brought on by a surprise visit (he was here for a conference, not to see me, but the potential for that horrible accidental meeting was high), and again, in talking with L i was able to locate that sense of perspective. it's the same perspective i have on life after returning from time away. life looks different; the tracks you make through the world as you go about your everyday routine mean in different ways. it's refreshing, really. we talked about writing and about my moving beyond the rather dysfunctional relationship i've had in the past with language. we talked about self and words and ideas and fear. we talked about her recent trip to Savannha, Georgia. we talked about music. the panic i had felt earlier in the day --- the looming dread that had settled itself about half way down my throat in a round, little ball --- dissipated and i knew that if i ran into him, i'd be okay.
today was the first day that i purposely scheduled a lunch with L to coincide with life's little disasters. we scammed and flirted our way to a patio table at a local restaurant, much to the chagrin of one of the busboys, and watched bustling, busy people stream by as we talked about ballads filled with narrative gaps, playing "fiddle" without playing fiddle, the joys of academe, what to do when you realize that your favourite t-shirt is no longer wearable and you lament not buying 4 or 5 of them, and how much fun it is to read nineteenth-century journalism. we talked about new york city and if it's actually possible to write a book while living there. we also talked about rowing (no surprise there; L used to row), eating, busking and the manliness of the 4 heavyweight men who have just returned from the under 23 worlds in belgium who were out on the water this morning. between the two of us we managed to weave an interesting, if somewhat incongruent, tapestry that looked more like my life than my life had been looking recently. when we sat down, i had been very hungry and this appetite of a starving 16 year old boy that has somehow crept into my body was causing my tummy to make very loud rumbling noises. i was also hungry in another way that i hadn't quite admitted to myself. i was hungry for normalcy --- for those long, languid chats, punctuated by our embarrassingly girlish laughter, that characterize our friendship. when we stood up to leave, me to return home and L to head back to her office, as clichéd as it sounds, i felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. i had somehow managed to transition from that space where i felt as though the world might fall in on me at any moment to a space where life again had rhythm, melody and that strange mixture of wit, charm, and sauciness that characterizes the ballads that L loves so much. i guess this post is my way of giving thanks.
my life was sent into a bit a tailspin when i had my heart broken in february. the morning of the breakage i was saved from myself by meeting with L, who i hadn't seen in at least a semester. in talking to her and catching her up on what was going on in my life (i didn't talk about the broken heart -- i was afraid if i did i might come a little unglued), i was forced to put everything that had happened in the last 36 hours into perspective. suddenly what had moments ago been a chasm that i didn't think i could cross appeared to be more of a crack in the sidewalk that i could easily step over. i'm not sure if she suspected something was up, what with my rather disheveled look and red-rimmed eyes; if she did she never let on. in talking about schoolwork and conferences and her kids and her band (yes, she's that cool; she plays in a funky little band) the pain never really went away, but it did take the form of something i knew how to manage.
L and i met for lunch another day, down by the waterfront in the late spring. the sun was warm and we both perched a little chic-ly on a bench wearing trendy sunglasses and sunning ourselves while eating our packed lunches. again, my heart was the problem because of the potential for a repetition of what happened in february brought on by a surprise visit (he was here for a conference, not to see me, but the potential for that horrible accidental meeting was high), and again, in talking with L i was able to locate that sense of perspective. it's the same perspective i have on life after returning from time away. life looks different; the tracks you make through the world as you go about your everyday routine mean in different ways. it's refreshing, really. we talked about writing and about my moving beyond the rather dysfunctional relationship i've had in the past with language. we talked about self and words and ideas and fear. we talked about her recent trip to Savannha, Georgia. we talked about music. the panic i had felt earlier in the day --- the looming dread that had settled itself about half way down my throat in a round, little ball --- dissipated and i knew that if i ran into him, i'd be okay.
today was the first day that i purposely scheduled a lunch with L to coincide with life's little disasters. we scammed and flirted our way to a patio table at a local restaurant, much to the chagrin of one of the busboys, and watched bustling, busy people stream by as we talked about ballads filled with narrative gaps, playing "fiddle" without playing fiddle, the joys of academe, what to do when you realize that your favourite t-shirt is no longer wearable and you lament not buying 4 or 5 of them, and how much fun it is to read nineteenth-century journalism. we talked about new york city and if it's actually possible to write a book while living there. we also talked about rowing (no surprise there; L used to row), eating, busking and the manliness of the 4 heavyweight men who have just returned from the under 23 worlds in belgium who were out on the water this morning. between the two of us we managed to weave an interesting, if somewhat incongruent, tapestry that looked more like my life than my life had been looking recently. when we sat down, i had been very hungry and this appetite of a starving 16 year old boy that has somehow crept into my body was causing my tummy to make very loud rumbling noises. i was also hungry in another way that i hadn't quite admitted to myself. i was hungry for normalcy --- for those long, languid chats, punctuated by our embarrassingly girlish laughter, that characterize our friendship. when we stood up to leave, me to return home and L to head back to her office, as clichéd as it sounds, i felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. i had somehow managed to transition from that space where i felt as though the world might fall in on me at any moment to a space where life again had rhythm, melody and that strange mixture of wit, charm, and sauciness that characterizes the ballads that L loves so much. i guess this post is my way of giving thanks.
posted by Amanda Bonner at 2:31 p.m.
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