This is the most spring-blooming photo I have at hand for Easter. Which is today, Which is sorely lacking in chocolate eggs and bunny rabbits. 

Maybe there is a resurrection happening somewhere to stop and appreciate - I'm grateful for a less challenging day, for a relative calm and steadiness compared to Saturday. Left a message for mom and that helped (though she hasn't called back). And didn't go overboard responding to Rose's commentary on how the state mandate to allow different kinds of housing on SFR lots will destroy Newport. It won't, if only because the cost of lumber and construction is so high. 

Nor did I email TH or write another card (my earlier effort recycled - since I began writing it last week). I was (and am) sad at moments. Why? I miss the attention. I miss the sense of there still be someone I could love in the world (in that way, as we said in high school). I miss his email every day. I miss having something to look forward to. I miss the possibility of there being desire and pleasure and joy in my life at this late stage. And maybe even love.

If I want to be realistic (a few tears slide down my cheeks), I suppose these possibilities still exist and I'm not sure if I have any faith in their manifesting. A cold assessment of my charms comes up short: I don't cook or want to housekeep for anyone, I have little to no experience in sharing apace with someone for more than an afternoon, and I want it all NOW full-blown: I want to wake up next to someone I adore, get coffee and chat outside, then go to Powells or for a walk on Mt Tabor followed by brunch and I want it to be effortless. Someone who drives the speed limit without kvetching, and loves traveling, who has enough money to buy dinner or splurge on a surprise without breaking the bank or wanting compensation. Who appreciates me just the way I am. Who wants my happiness and is comfortable within their own skin. And my skin which has lost its robust resilience. No regrets and I am sad. 

And truth be told, I want TH. Him, specifically. Readers, it doesn't look likely. It looks like I spent all my nickels and there's no payoff. I wish I understood what happened - precisely what train of thought derailed on Thursday or Friday and I doubt I'll be privy to it. So what do I want this time to teach me: to love regardless? to not exaggerate my charms? to lay eyes on the goods before putting my heart on the cutting board (to wildly mix my metaphors)? What would I do differently - well there aren't a lot of places to meet people with the pandemic, no likely sweethearts on the bus. Maybe it really is time to move to Madison. To be continued (writing does help).