Yesterday was St. Bartholomew's Day - I know because last year Trevor proposed to me on that day. We had just been to St. Barts with my family. I wanted to go for my thirtieth birthday since I hadn't been in ten years. We used to go all the time when I was a kid. It wasn't always the playground for the rich and famous that it is now, and I'm aware how posh it makes me sound that I was vacationing on St. Barts. Still, for all the attention it gets, people always seem to miss that it is has a very special vibe. Even at the age of seven, I knew I was somewhere different.
So Trevor proposed to me at Magens Bay on St. Thomas in the driving rain. I said yes and then we built a dam. I had my appendix out a week later. Such is life.
* * *
I submitted some poems today to a journal. It's not something I do enough, though I suppose I should start. Why write them if only to hoard and forget them on my hard drive? I'm starting to wonder how much it affects my revision process that it all takes place on the computer now.
No comments:
Post a Comment