Ten short days

Ten days from today I hit the half century mark. Yes, folks, I am actually going to be 50 years old and I love it. There are some things about it I don't love -- like not being able to share it with the man I love, but into every life and all that rain-on-my-parade blather.

Sometimes it seems he and I are completely in synch and other times facing off across a great distance and having to shout across the mountaintops to even be heard. Life isn't perfect and love doesn't solve everything. Ask anyone who has truly loved--or thought they did.

There are times when a few hours of passion is enough and other times when it makes the silent hours of waiting too difficult to bear. Time and distance lend enchantment at times, but they also make the loneliness louder and more painful to hear and feel.

The first half century of my life has been marked with joy and pain (a lot of pain sometimes), but in the last few months before this natal celebration of golden proportions I realize that passion and life and even the act of living is fraught with pain and without that pain we would not know we live at all. I am not a big fan of pain but I can--and do--endure its venomous sting because the moments of pleasure and happiness, the feeling of sinking deep into passion's embrace for a moment outside of time, is worth all the pain.

For my birthday wish I want more passion and less suffering and pain. Anybody know to whom I make my desires known? If so, give me their email or snail mail address and I will storm their crenellated towers.

In the meantime, enjoy the moments of happiness and never look back.

I'll shut up now.