But when you see me spread my wings you’ll find

the remiges glossy and strong, with fibers so finely woven. And the down lying underneath is tickling, soft,  familiar.

Ride on my back and I will show you great heights.                                                    Hold me in your hand and I will not fly.                                                                       Stroke my head and I will surrender.                                                                                Retreat to my wing and I will keep you warm.

What color are my wings to be? Imagine and you will never know their full beauty.

Take in the bird before you. I am waiting for your gentle hand.

My favorite scene was The Princess and the Pea. The prince in his plumed hat and billowing sleeves, the princess with her long and flowing golden hair, perched atop her twenty mattresses and twenty feather beds, all in slow-motion gestures I didn’t understand, all bathed in silver and gold and sparkling snow. I know there were at least two more extravagant scenes but not one stuck out in my mind. I would stand outside, mesmerized by their dance, imagining I was the princess, taken in and found to be of royalty. I wanted to be found.

My mother would take me inside to shop around through “the magic staircase” as I called it because we would walk into the stairwell and be spat out onto another floor of shiny new things. Once particular floor contained the Secret Santa shop where kids could go and pick out some useless bauble for their parents to open on Christmas Day. I loved to give them gifts.

There’s no trace of that place now. It lives in my head where it will surely one day be lost. The times of the fond and fuzzy carefree holiday has gone by the wayside. Here I am, ten o’ clock on Christmas eve, alone in my fluffy blue bathrobe, snug in my bed with my dog and a glass of wine. I cherish these moments too because this time is all I have. I long for a family of my own, new traditions and memories, someone to share my life with. So much that my heart aches terribly sometimes. But now is all I have. The whistle of the trains and the whisper of the freeway in the distance. My dog by my side, an occasional sigh and stretching out  against my leg. Tomorrow is Christmas Day, a gift of another day as the sun rises and shines and moves me forward. Forward is all I have. It’s all I need.

I am grateful.

Today is a very special day for you, I know. It represents the closing of a chapter in your life and the beginning of a new and unknown territory. The unique and beautiful qualities you inherited from your mother truly shine in you, and it’s those qualities and your own special way about you that I love so much. I wake up every morning feeling so lucky to have you in my life and being with you is such a joy, even through the toughest times; the times I need you the most. I look forward to the rest of my life with you in it and the challenges of life that lie ahead. You are the most beautiful woman I know in myriad ways and I love you more and more with each passing day.

Yours in the Future and Always,

Mister Right.

Doesn’t always come wrapped in a shiny box with a pretty bow. The one you love may not may not think the way you do. They may have habits you can’t stand.

They may have mountains to climb.

They may not look the way you pictured. A little blonder, a little older. Maybe a bigger nose than you thought you could stand

but it’s the most beautiful nose you’ve ever seen.

Love

Gives us the courage to let it go and the reassurance that it will come around again. It may come in a different box, packaged in a different way, with a funkier bow or a shinier wrapper. Or maybe it will be wrinkled and scarred. It doesn’t come around often but when it does

and it does

Lesson learned.

Is it really possible for men and women to be friends?

My verdict is in and the answer is…

(drum roll)

Yes.

Now some people out there will just shake their heads and say, “Of course!” We live in an age where men and women share the same careers, and women are now on a little more of an even playing field than we were just twenty years ago. If you don’t believe me you might want to revisit just about any classic film of the 1980′s. But it’s a little more complicated than that. Or maybe not, depending on who you talk to .

I’ve had lots of male friends. I was in a band in high school with boys so we spent a lot of time together. I had a few close girlfriends, but the ones I could always count on were the boys. Why is that? Well, girls always seemed caught up in so much drama and back-stabbing. Dudes didn’t do that. And well frankly, I was too insecure to deal with that crap. Even through college I tended to lean towards the guy friends. It doesn’t matter why really, I just knew that my guy friends would have my back when some other girls would turn on a dime.

Here’s where I say, “But wait! There’s more!”

I knew that a couple of those guy friends had extra friendly feelings towards me. And sometimes they showed it.

We’re attracted to people of the opposite sex for a reason. Right? I’m sure there’s been lots of studies done that show that most friendships between men and women started with some sort of physical attraction to one another.

Now I know where you think I’m going, but just hold on a minute. I’m in my thirties now and my guy to girl friend ratio is declining. But one of my dearest friends is a guy. I love him. Like a BROTHER. How do I know this? I made out with him one night and it felt like I was kissing my brother. Of course he initiated the make-out session but when we came up for air we both had the same perplexed look on our faces. No way would we be doing that again. EVER. That was over ten years ago and we’ve decided that we must have been siblings in a past life. I’m not saying that you’ve got to act on any physical tension you might have in a platonic relationship, but I think you at least have to acknowledge that it’s there. Chances are, at least one of you has felt a little frisky, even if it’s just a little.

So why go to all that trouble? Some of you on the other end of the spectrum might not understand. Maybe you men out there have always been around sensitive men that will listen to your problems. Maybe you women have surrounded yourself with other capable and strong women who can change the flat tire on your car and make you feel pretty.

But the truth is,

It feels really good to have a man who will come over and fix the sink. Someone I can ask for advice. Someone who isn’t going to break my heart or be a dick. He’ll tell me that I’m awesome and mean it. Hell tell me to suck it up and it won’t hurt my feelings. I won’t be wondering if he’ll call. AND he might even wipe the cookie dough off your face when you’re drowning your sorrows after a break up. (that one’s never happened to me).

It feels really good to have a girl around who appreciates you. Who needs your help and won’t be disappointed because it’s not good enough. You won’t let her down. You can open up and talk a little more freely because you’re not out to impress her. She’ll give you good date ideas. You don’t have anything to prove.

Sounds too good to be true, right? Sometimes it is if you don’t play your cards right. There comes a time when we start to seriously search for a mate. Someone to be our best friend. Someone to share our deepest feelings and dreams with. Someone who knows you, loves you, and takes you with every flaw you’ve got.

**NEWS FLASH ***

That person IS NOT your ex-girlfriend or ex-boyfriend. That person IS NOT your best friend that you have such a great connection to but just isn’t your type. That person is your lover. If it isn’t then you seriously need to reevaluate your life.

For my best guy friend, this just happened naturally. He started seeing a girl and they’ve been together for four years now. Since they began dating, our friendship has stayed strong but we don’t hang out together alone as much as we used to. We don’t share as much as we used to. I was a little sad about that when I realized what was happening but I really respect it. He really digs her. I think that’s the way it should work.

I’m definitely not the type to say you’ve got to ditch your platonic friends as soon as you enter a romantic relationship. I don’t do that. But I think it’s a good idea to take a look at the dynamics of your romantic relationship and your friendships. It’s natural to question the relationships your significant other has with the opposite sex It’s OK if you feel uncomfortable. It’s OK to talk about it. And I mean this within reason. We can get into infidelity, trust issues, and insecurities in another episode.

It all comes down to respect. If you really love someone, you want them to be happy, right? Being in a relationship means taking another person’s feelings into account as well as your own. It Doesn’t mean giving into the feelings of another, or feeling responsible for the happiness of someone else. It doesn’t mean that you should change your values or your principles. And you don’t always have to agree. But you do need to come to an understanding of what is important to the person closest to you. If you love them, you will honor those things.

So go on. Go to a movie with her. Change the light bulbs in her bathroom. It’ll make you feel like a man. No no, it’s alright. Ask him to come with you to buy that car. You’ll feel safe. And yeah, you’ll most likely get a better deal. Just don’t forget she’s got an innie and he’s got an outie. There’s a reason.

Trust me.

regret \ri-’gret\ vb 1. a: to mourn the loss or death of  b: to miss very much.

2. : to be very sorry for – to experience regret

regret n 1 : sorrow aroused by circumstances beyond one’s control or power to repair 2 a: an expression of distressing emotion b pl : a note politely declining an invitation

I’ve never been one to regret things. I have always felt that people who live life full of regrets must live an unfulfilled and sad life. I’ve always been able to take my mistakes and turn them into a learning experience, no matter how big or small they might be. Justification turns into a little pink eraser that just smudges them into dust.

I’ve tried to do that now and it just isn’t working. I tell myself that I wouldn’t have realized these things about myself. I wouldn’t have understood why I feel the way I feel.

Nope. Not working this time. It’s like one of those bad erasers that just smears everything around into a big mess.

I feel regret. So many things I did and said. So many mistakes I’ve made this time. Did I learn something? Yes. Lots of things. I’ve become more aware that every action causes a reaction and although I can’t control the reactions of another, I can control my own actions. I’ve learned that patience really is a virtue that I don’t have.

Apparently I’ve made my mistakes in pen.

I’m painfully afraid to screw up. So much so that it has kept me from enjoying the fullness of the wonderful life I live. I’ve scoffed at those people out there living their lives full of the feelings I try to erase every day.

I’ve always thought that feeling regret meant dwelling on an act that cannot be changed; a wish for a second chance that can never be. But really, regret is just another human feeling. I mean, not just another. It is significant,  inevitable, and necessary.

I remember something my second grade teacher said during our writing lesson. “Don’t use your eraser. I want to see what you’ve written. Just put a line through it and move on.”

Thanks Mrs. Cook. I wish I would have remembered that before I made this mistake.

The smell of mulefat.

Musty, sweet, nostalgic.

It’s always there when I’m high above the madness of the city. It’s the smell of sweet escape. It’s almost as if it lifts me up and away with every invisible trail of scent that floats my way.

Back down the crunchy path. A few hellos to fellow escapists fresh from the office.

Down I go back to the bustle, passing my favorite streets still high above the city noise, looking over each house I pass with thoughtful care.

Right. Left. Right. Left.

Too boxy. No no, that one is weird.

Oooh, look at the lawn. The trees.

I would put a swing there.

I slow down when I see the for sale sign and strain my eyes a bit more.

I will live here some day.

Now, I’m not even close to being able to pay off my student loans let alone a house in the hills of Burbank.

But that’s ok.

Someday I will.

“Man passes through the present with his eyes blind-folded. He is permitted merely to sense and guess at what he is actually experiencing. Only later when the cloth is untied can he glance at the past and find out what he has experienced and what meaning it has had.”~ Milan Kundera, Laughable Loves.

Last weekend was a doozy. I knew it would be rough, giving a deposition to a bunch of lawyers didn’t sound like a walk in the park but I was happy to get it over with.  I was nervous to revisit that moment in time, although I have recalled it in my mind a thousand times since then.. Three and a half hours later I emerged from the deposition room feeling shaken and dazed. I hadn’t fully comprehended what I had just experienced. Pouring over pages of my personal psychiatric records and  family dirt. I was even asked to describe my mother as she lay lifeless, colorless and cold as the blue lights flashed when her heart stopped.

My dad was even more shaken than I, a naive and sad man who  lost the woman who did everything for him.  A woman who took  on the burden of being both a mother and father to me for as long as she was alive.  My father had given up all  responsibility to my mother, a strong-willed woman in the poorest of health who believed she had do it all to be needed. To be useful. To be loved.

And now she is gone.

He is in shambles. He is in debt. He  has lost his companion, his life. his love.

I felt so  alone. No no, not lonely, alone. I felt like I was completely invisible, a feeling I have never experienced before to that degree. Abandonment in its fullest form. The heart of my fear.

I wanted to call him. I wanted to allow myself to need him. I wanted to be strong. So I sat in silence, closed my eyes, and wept so violently into my pillow I thought my insides would burst.

And then something happened. The splotches I was seeing from clenching my eyes faded into a memory of a night out about a week earlier.

I walked into the restaurant and there he was, waiting for me. He stood up from the table and embraced me so tight and I felt so warm. So safe. So loved.

I snapped out of it and realized my tears had dried up and I had the residuals of a slight smile on my face.

We’d had a lovely dinner that night but during the walk to the car. I burst into tears. I had wanted him to say something to me. Share something with me. Anything at all that would have shown that he could be vulnerable too. But he did not and so I barked at him with questions of , “WHY DID YOU BRING ME HERE?” and “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?” Like I was accusing him of plotting this great attack against me.  I felt such shame for ruining a lovely dinner.

But now, sitting on the bed with my grip on my pillow not so tight now, It hit me. I knew the answer to the questions I was shouting at him but wasn’t allowing myself to see.

He brought me to that lovely restaurant because he wants to spend time with me. To be near me. To do something nice for me and to make me happy.

Regardless of our issues, his stubbornness, my craziness, he was there. Waiting for me. Looking forward to sharing a meal together. Just like a hundred nights before since  we first met. He had already shown that he can be vulnerable too.

And then the knot in my stomach unclenched its fist and I took a deep breath.

I am not alone and there’s no need for fear. I can allow him to care for me and spend time with me. All he has ever shown me is kindness and love. I can put my trust in him. I can have faith in myself.

The cloth is untied.