Saturday, February 2, 2008

Come Saturday Morning

In Missouri I would hear that song and think of the Elfindale mansion. The mansion was a former cloister for nuns, next to a severely square brick Catholic church. Then they turned the mansion into a Victorian bed and breakfast.

I would go there on my birthday as a present from P and I and regain my solitude. The light would shine across the long driveway leading down into the woods and the mansion and I would look from the third floor room, the Tower Suite, and think of that song and imagine my lover in a cotton suit walking up the drive to me.

Now I only think of that song occasionally, and only because it is a Saturday morning. My lovers don't wear cotton suits and they are emotional disappointments. The leaves don't change color here and light the world on fire on my birthday.

But there is a woods, a mere three blocks from me. And sometimes, I can find a path in it. The goal is to meet my lover halfway...a better man. And I also have to be prepared to not meet him...or meet him after I meet myself.

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