Spring

I returned to Santa Cruz late Wednesday night from Atlanta, and before that vacation in New Mexico. The dark hid from me a splendid surprise: spring had come in my absence in a sprayof flowers blue and purple, yellow and orange; in apple and cherry blossom trees that bloom and spread their petals like snow on the ground in heartbreakingly quick succession, in ferns and low growth of such a vibrant green, it makes the eyes squint, in a sun that comes earlier and warms the breeze just a few degrees warmer and in the shorts and flip flops the students at UC Santa Cruz (where I work) have pulled out from under their Uggs and fleece-lined hoodies. What a warm welcome home, the best I could have wished for.

I preceded the blooming phase of spring in New Mexico by a couple weeks, but the beauty there, though less saturated in colors, was no less moving than here. The ways that the pale browns, reds, greens, and blues of Nature there play off one another was a great challenge to my writing, one I think I met well. The exception to the pale beauty of the state were the sunsets. They are as mystical as they say they are, striations of colors you forgot existed blanket the sky and reflect in the mountains in fading palettes, and 24 hours later, it happens all over again. That stark, pre-Spring time in New Mexico solidified my intention to build a career in writing, and opportunities are lining up, it seems, that will keep me on that path. What a gift those two weeks were.

Last night, Thomas came over with a bag of produce for dinner and, after dropping it on my counter, we left for a long sunset hike. We spoke of healing, of loss, of lessons, and laughed a lot, too. Sometimes, I get the impression that we're building a relationship, minus the sex and romanticism. He knows me in a way few people do, he's bore witness to my spiritual growth over the last couple years. No one, except I'Asha, has been this close to me in my spiritual struggles. And he gets it, gets me. As I never quite know how friendships with straight men really happen, it's natural that from time to time I wonder, "What if..."

As if in response to my musing during the hike, while he was preparing dinner, I pulled out a game I bought to use with my staff -- a set of cards with personal questions on them -- to test out. One of the first cards read: "Tell about a secret desire." My first thought was, "To have sex with Thomas." I had to supress the giggles. We both squirmed under the topic. Stalling, thinking, "umm-ing." I suspect his first thought was also mine. We've had moments of sexual tension since we became friends. How apt that the Universe would pose to us a context that we could either step up to or evade. We evaded, and I do believe that was the right thing to do. And yet. It was my first thought.

Thomas' skills in the kitchen have become legendary. I do think many of my friends secret desire is to be invited over when Thomas is cooking, since I talk about what a wonderful cook he is. We began with my contribution: a simple and unexciting salad. Then, proceeded with "unadulterated" artichokes (without mayonnaise, as I was raised to eat them), as he referred to them. They were perfectly steamed. I told him about how as a kid my mom told us that kids couldn't eat the hearts of artichokes because they were too prickly. I think I was a teenager when I ate at a friends house, and noticed that everyone simply spooned out the prickly part and savored the heart. All those years, my mom was saving our hearts for herself. I guess that's what mom's want to do. What a hard thing it must be to parent children, who you devote your life to, and then they leave you and go live and survive without your constant nurturing. I don't begrudge her the artichoke hearts. I was about to write that even now, I would give up my artichoke hearts for her enjoyment, but the memory of the heart form last night is still too close to my lips and satisfaction to commit to that sort of sacrifice!

Then, Thomas divined a vegetable coconut curry that rivaled any restaurant's version. Paired with my favorite sulfite-free, organic red wine, the meal was culinary perfection. Dessert was a scrumptuos strawberry shortcake. The good company, of course, was the real treasure. Considering it all: Nature's spring greeting, the energetic hike, the good food and wine, Thomas' gentle, loving companionship and coking, my welcome home these past couple days couldn't have been more blessed.