But the Heart Loves Chaos

The mind likes logic, but the heart loves chaos. The light is always on in Reality, isn't it? Maybe I sought you out to make sense of my life, I don't know. Maybe I wanted some sense that you were still how I remembered you (at least a little of you that was left.) I may have misremembered a few details, but on the whole, I remember you — and you were the thrill of a lifetime! And if you had asked, I would have done it again.

I hope I can see you in the hereafter (as a woman from Africa once told me.) Then we can talk about your ceiling, and mine. Who was there, and who wasn't. I can tell you right now I know who won't be there! (I may need a flow chart to keep track of your damn women!)

I remember so many things … do you remember who I am yet?  I attached pictures to jog your memory, including the house on Euclid where I lived. I remember the very first time I saw you, when we looked in each others' eyes, as though we were both gazing into the same future. We all ended up at Shel's house and that's where we actually met. I believe I threw your car keys out of a second story window onto the roof at his house! (Why would I have done something so bizarre?)

I had to admit, I was intrigued.

I remember, when I was selling real estate, how you could always tell when there'd been a divorce. One room was conspicuously left emptied of its contents, and these rooms were never swept or tidied. Instead they were left just as they were when the partner left, taking their possessions with them. The room echoed when you walked across the bare wood floor. Meanwhile life attempted to struggle forward without them. The rest of the house tried to go on as if the barren room didn't exist, but the weight of that empty room made the heart of the house sag.