kat and i are here in my home with maker's mark, mallomar's, half baked and 
a girly movie - in her shoes. we are having a moment with our computers and 
our thoughts of people we adore who are not near. some people don't celebrate 
it, some people protest it, some people get lonely - i like to notice who is closest 
in my heart, and then let it all go. i have been thinking lately that letting go of 
expectations is such a good way to roll forward into any relationship. but at the 
same time, you risk losing dreams, dreams you didn't know you were holding, 
of kisses on the back of your neck near the top, hands on your back when you cry, 
children - with names, bone shattering passion, traditions of romance and family, 
singing in a room packed with people who love lyrics, writing breathtaking novels, 
waking up next to someone you wanted to spend the night with, dreams that sit 
brewing in the unused 90% of your brain until they suddenly don't happen and 
some other wonderful random normal magic happens and you're giggling and 
small talking and just so happy to be anywhere with someone you never expected 
to exist. losing is an art. this movie had a poem in it that captured this for me...try 
it on for size. 

One Art, By Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day.  Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel.  None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch.  And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones.  And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

this goes out to beheaded saints, patriarchal giving of flowers, packed restaurants 
full of awkward conversations and good intentions, cuddling and nuzzling and 
missing and wishing.

happy valentine's day darlings...