T parking was open, so didn't have to drive into town. Hadn't realized how
much I've missed the train - brief intersections in time and space with people, observing them and wondering about their lives. Ritual nods and smiles,
occasional small talk, a sense of not being alone, but no demands - you can
be lost in your thoughts. When I'm missing those I'm closest to, being with strangers seems like the next best thing. It's calming somehow.
My friend S was right - work does fill in the spaces. A new project in the office
next to where I was all summer, the people here just as sweet. Working with software that was a little hard to figure out, but eventually fell into place. That
seems to be my experience though. Waiting for a little while will make things become clearer.
I'm always colder than other people seem to be. Get off the train at Harvard
Square to walk around and search for music. Find the CD I want, and stop to
hear the music in the streets, my thoughts happy ones, but a poor substitute
for talk, my coat pulled tight around me, a poor substitute for arms.
november 3
november 3
world
walls
windows
wires
words
waves
we
november 8
november 8
Lunch today in a hotel cafe with windows that look out on the street and
across to the park. Coffee to warm me while waiting.
Most people here are in two's. Friends who laugh a lot and compare their days,
and coworkers who talk about yesterday's election, still strangely unresolved.
Then there are couples who just seem happy to be together. They listen to each other
with a sort of completeness. When they talk it seems to send some part of themselves right into the other.
I don't mind being alone sometimes. It makes me not take moments for
granted when I am with someone I love. I remember the contrast too clearly.
I'm alone now, but sometimes I'm one of them, happiness coming from
just seeing the face across from mine. I'm alone now, but sometimes
I'm one of them, sitting with someone who has a piece of my heart, who
tenderly puts it in place, leaving it there for a while. november 12
november 12
Decide to get dinner on the way to Logan, maybe some pub food around
Quincy Market. Leave the parking garage and see the whole row of pubs
on Union St. We pass them all the time, but never really noticed.
A loved city is a little like a loved person - there's always something new
to discover. The initial frenzy when you can't get enough of them, the
happiness during further exploration when they let you see their secret places,
and the deep joy that comes from growing intimacy - knowing there will never
be an end to discovery, no end to delight.
Live music Wednesdays and Sundays. A guy playing guitar in front
by the windows, music that feels good to hear. Outside again, walking
past the windows on the other side. Seeing him just as clearly, his music
just as moving, just with some distance now. november 14
november 14
K wants to be pampered when she's home for Thanksgiving, and I want to pamper her, so we're thinking alike - her favorite foods for dinner, and cinnamon rolls for breakfast. Decide to make those tonight and freeze them.
Stop at the produce market for a few things for cooking. Outdoor tables set up - some to hold turkeys and things for next week, some holding the things they always do - and Christmas trees already. Time passing so fast and so slow. november 15
november 15
The escalator at the train station is squeaking and it's definitely a
Queen song - "Be - elzebub, has a devil put aside for me, for meee."
Oh no - once that starts with a song I'm doomed.
Bought the U2 for E, who's a bigger fan than I am. Not my favorites,
but always one or two songs that sort of grow on me. Ah - this is much better. Bohemian Rhapsody is replaced. Now I haveWild Honey in my brain all morning, all morning. Before the clocks kept time ... november 18
november 18
When you have people in your life with different interests, you get to
see different worlds from time to time, a thing that makes life interesting.
The season has started up again in Symphony Hall. A nice open space,
espresso and people watching before the lights flash, and then two hours
of music I don't have good receptors for. The notes say this symphony
conveys yearning and intensity, two feelings I'm familiar with, but I don't
hear them in this music. Something close to rapture in the faces all around
me, though, so I know I'm missing something. Some people lean forward, with
their chin in their hands, some people lean back and close their eyes. It's nice
to see others enjoy something so much.
A few steps to the Malayasian restaurant next door. Our waitress Bulgarian,
the beer Japanese, French at the next table. Drops of the world falling like rain.
Such thoughts of connection make me happy somehow. november 21
november 21
Domestic things all day today, getting ready for Thanksgiving weekend. A drive to the country on the day itself, the Christmas tree on Friday. Then candles in the windows to say welcome home.
november 24
november 24
Driving back to Boston on a cold, clear night. Stars so close you could
reach out and touch them, hold them in your hands.
Getting over a cold and still fuzzy brained, drifting in and out of sleep.
november 28
november 28
The last few days of treatment, a good feeling. Still, hard not to be
impatient. A feeling of imposed stillness when I want to be moving.
Friday is a new month, December kind of goes by with all the usual
activities, and then New Year's Eve. I'm looking forward to First Night,
as they call it here, to see midnight come and a brand new year ahead.
The dream combination of Yo La Tengo and the Go-Betweens is playing
at the Roxy tonight. If I picked a combination myself, it would be this one,
or at least it would be in the top 5. Still, a bit of inertia - partly the hassle
factor and partly going alone. I suppose it's just why I want to see these two bands. When I listen to their music, I never am alone.
november 30
november 30
One treatment tomorrow, but a final meeting with the radiologist today.
She is reassuring, the clinic new, no hospital smell, lit and furnished
more like a hotel. She gives me information, statistics, tells me
not to worry, that chances of further problems are minimal, that I'm
going to be fine.
Reflecting on all this while driving home. Pull into the garage, and walk
back to the mailbox with some outgoing letters - forgot to stop at the
post office. Walk back up the driveway, and realize I'm smiling - from
a part of me that hasn't felt this calm for months. I know I won't stop
looking over my shoulder for a few years to come, but most people in
the world are probably looking over their shoulders for one thing or
another. But It's over. I don't have cancer anymore. I'm going to be ok.
And I'm free, free, free again.
![[calendars]](images/calendars.jpg)
