07-22-02 - 8:12 p.m.
the dilemma, you see, is that my lover is my best friend. my best friend is my lover. in proper affairs of the heart, it happens all the time, but never to me. never, even in 25 years of marriage split between two men of vast and useless differences. not until now. not until this man, this unlikely candidate, 22 years my senior, somebody's boss, somebody's grandfather, somebody's husband. he taught me about worth. i have value. i matter, as somebody's boss, somebody's mother, somebody's lover. because of him, i learned the meaning of the dreaded T word. trust.
so i'm sitting here, brimming with a week's worth of news; the tiny newborn overwhelming my home, a glorious sunrise as i drove down the hill to work, rachel's current neurosis, the pesky oil stain in my driveway, my review of the much heralded amelie, my opinion of boston cream pie. most of all, i want to complain about this awful pang of loneliness that has settled like a dull ache inside my heart. he is old and wise and has a remedy for every woe that ails me. pour a glass of champagne and fill the tub with bubbles, he'd say. escape to your thinking spot at the end of the pier and listen to the sea lions. write in your diary, and really open up and let them know how tough it is, this rocky, hopeless path called destiny.
so here goes;
the dilemma, you see, is that my lover is my best friend....