chalk the block...

Once upon a weekend, Parker and I went to the grocery store in search of a kite because it was the perfect kind of blustery day.

No kites to be found -- I suppose we should have remembered that most people don't fly kites in October. Instead, we found a box of chalk sticks. At $4.49 for 52 sticks, it wasn't a bad deal. Parker jumped on the idea when I pointed the chalk out, and after making our purchase we headed to the nearby park (by way of the railroad ties that crisscross the town -- dream come true for me, to walk through a town balancing on the railroad tracks).

Object of the game: the first person to take a turn with the chalk draws some random lines, squiggles, circles, whatever they desire. Then the second person looks for a picture in those random lines and "shows it" to the first person by drawing the whole picture.

Let me show you a few of our masterpieces.

Parker is the big man in this town.

Frieda the Elephant and me on the borders of Parker's Gulf of Mexico.

He did a pretty good job on this one -- my favorite of his pieces.

Favorite of the ones I drew.

May I say that this was one of the most fun things I have done this whole semester? Possibly the whole year?

It's very possible that I will be introducing this game to my own neighborhood. I've got a fair amount of smooth asphalt in front of my garage -- time to pretty it up a bit.

what I just realized...

dear Friend,

I told you last night that I don't want to go home.

"Why?"

"Everything in my life is back there. School. Work. Responsibility. People I'm scared of. I don't want to go back to all of it."

You reassured me about it all -- I appreciate that a lot.

I didn't tell you everything though.

Driving down the country lanes, stopping at random to take pictures of the sunset, taking turns choosing which direction to go at crossroads, telling stories about past adventures, dreaming about the future -- being together like that made me realize something.

"Home is where your heart is."

I've always brushed that aside as a silly cliche, one overused like "the grass is always greener." But you know something?

As cliche as these little sayings may be, they can be horribly true.

Which is also funny, because you said that this morning. When we said good-bye.

Perhaps I shouldn't say it. Perhaps I shouldn't think it. I wouldn't do those things if I could help it -- the thought came unbidden, unexpected -- they're random thoughts and you just happen to be in them.

And then, as usual, you're the one who voices the thoughts I don't say. Like we're on the same brain wave or something.

It's a little scary. And at the same time, it's not. It's comforting.

You still have my heart. Try as I might, I can't get it back. Because if you asked for it, I wouldn't hesitate in giving it to you forever.

I don't want to go home because you're not there.

At least I got to see you for a few days. You really don't know how much that meant to me.

all my love,
GKB

someday we'll know...

Love is something that I don't get. There are so many definitions of love -- I, however, can't seem to define it. There are so many ways that people show love -- sometimes it's hard for me to recognize those ways. And sometimes, it's hard for me to grasp that someone actually loves me.

Take physical touch. I don't know what it is about me and physical touch. I go for days and days without it, and I start to forget that it even happens. No hugs, no high fives, no nothing, and it's no big deal. I rarely miss it or seek it out. I just tend to forget about it.

Then out of nowhere someone will scoop me up in a hug or place a gentle kiss on my cheek. It often shocks me, and I'm left standing there looking surprised. Like today -- a family friend who I've known since I was a baby came into PartyLand tonight. She asked me how my dad and my family are doing, and then she asked about me. I gave the usual "I'm fine" answer. All of the sudden she leaned over the counter and gave me a hug, then kissed me on the cheek and told me she loves me.

I was completely thrown off guard, so much so that I could hardly respond. Standing there behind the counter, I felt tears come to my eyes and a voice in my head said, "Oh, yes. That's what it feels like to be loved. That was kind of her."

And then I felt all funny inside, and vulnerable. Lately I've been trying to keep a sort of protective shell around myself when I'm among coworkers and friends (close friends and room mates excluded -- they've figured out how to get through the shell). But I'm beginning to notice that when I'm offered verbal and physical affection from someone, especially someone I don't know very well or see very often, the shell starts to crack.

Knowing that someone loves you is a strange thing -- for me, it's one of the most astounding sensations in the world. I often worry that the people I love don't love me as much as I love them, and that they'll go away (still working on that one). Realizing that someone really cares about me and loves me hits me like a lightning bolt -- the lady at the store literally left me speechless.

Love is a hard thing for me to understand. It's hard for me to explain why -- I'm not even sure that I know. I only know that it's a tricky thing for me, slippery and hard to grasp in my mind. It frightens me -- it keeps me up at night, or wakes me up.

Like last night -- I know I was having a good dream, and that I was with someone who made me happy. I know it was a man, and that we were laughing and having a good time and were happy together. Then, I lost him. He was there one second, and then he was gone. I couldn't find him -- he was just lost. I woke up crying, not really sure why because the details of the dream faded very quickly -- but I felt so scared and so alone. I do remember that it was 4:15 in the morning, and that I haven't felt that devastated in a very long time.

I think I loved the person in the dream. I don't remember who it was. I don't even know if the man was a person that I knew. Losing him, though, was the worst thing ever.

Love. I don't get it. Not just romantic love, either. The dream is just an example of one of the things that worries me. The other loves, like sister, parent, daughter, brother, friend, neighbor, and all of the others -- those worry me, too.

For what is it to love, and to be loved? What is it really?

Hopefully I'll begin to understand it someday.

funny how that works...

The more I get to know you, the more I find that we are incredibly compatible. We like the same things and we dislike the same things. We have similar goals and dreams. We have similar opinions politically, socially, spiritually, family-ly, educationally, and the like. We think very much the same about the world, and even when we disagree we are able to come to some sort of a compromise (except on the issue of whether cake is good or not. I will like cake no matter how much you dislike it).

And so here we are, able to converse for hours on end without getting bored of one another. Here we are, able to sit together in companionable silence without it getting awkward. And always, the we ends and it's back to you in your world and me in mine.

I haven't met anyone like you before. I've had best friends and people I could talk to about most everything, but you? Note that this is weird because you're a guy: you are the one who I can talk to about everything. Literally everything. And the best part? You talk back. About everything. When we're not talking, we're still communicating. It's different, but it's a comfortable feeling. It's one I don't get tired of quickly.

It's odd, because when I'm with you I feel content and complete. It's a perfect friendship, one of mutual caring and understanding with a very open channel of communication. I don't have to be afraid to talk to you about things that might be weird or potentially awkward. For you, it's just making things better by talking through it. I appreciate that.

Sometimes it's strange to me that we're friends. Then if I think about it, I realize thinking about it is ridiculous. Why analyze something that brings me joy? Still, though. It's funny.

Funny.