The Lives of a Cell by Lewis Thomas
8 min in The Monk’s Room, LES/NYC
She’s stood me up so many times. But today is different, I’m older and wiser. Therapy helped me understand so much. I’m not angry any more about things in the past. I’m living in the present. This is going to be the beginning of a new chapter. We’re healing our relationship.
It is not her fault. She was grieving when she told my boyfriend Brian I was going with other guys. I totally get it was too soon after her fiance’s suicide to enjoy other people in love. She was addled with grief. Her grief was persuasive in ways premeditated seduction could never be. She used to ask me how I could sleep with a redhead. She said they were repulsive, their freckled skin a dermatological nightmare. Funny, I’ve never been with a ‘ginger’ since.
The waiter wonders if I need another glass. I nursed the last one for half an hour. This was supposed to be your treat, but I’m having a bad feeling as I scroll my call list for Dr. Paul’s number.
gratitude 10.vii
-melted cheese, tonight’s joy came as saganaki
-Tompkins Square
-patience
-fresh fruit as an alternative to horrible preservative riddled faux bagels
-fall in New York City
-the Strand bookstore
-the kind buyer at the Barnes and Noble counter who explained why books bought for fifty cents had to be in perfect shape in order to be sold for 3 or 4 dollars. it’s the economy.
-public radio
-awesome good news of my friends, it reminds me that everyone is hoping and fearing simultaneously which is why the triumph of hope is so so sweet
-laughter is good medicine
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