Strange Bedfellow

We only just met yesterday,
but we really hit it off.
In fact, Bryan came right over and said hello,
very friendly, very kind.
Sometimes you just know . . .

As I fell asleep last night,
with my window open to the porch,
I heard someone outside--I was sure I heard someone outside,
some stealthy footsteps pacing in front of my window,
But I thought, it's ok, it's only Bryan.
And then Bryan was through the window and in my bed!
I thought, This is sudden!
We only just met, my goodness, so forward!
But it just felt right.

Bryan curled up by my side and started to purr,
And I reached down and petted her tiny whiskered face,
And listened to the cicadas and the crickets singing the night away.
Welcome to New Zealand, Bryan said.
Thank you, I said. It is good to be here with you.

Purr, purr, purr

Over

Getting over someone is sometimes like trying to push yourself over a rock sunk in a river while lying on your belly on an inflatable mattress and paddling with your outstretched arms.

Getting over someone is sometimes like trying to get used to the cold, like standing outside in the snow and thinking, "If I just stand here a little longer, I'll warm up."

Getting over someone is sometimes like sending a postcard to a friend and finding out that your friend moved and didn't tell you.

Getting over someone is sometimes like a taking a long, bleak walk on a gray day alone down a country road in winter.

Getting over someone is hard.

It is always, always hard.