a warm kind of love

Dear Soulmate,

It’s autumn in New York. Leaves are turning colors, the wind is growing colder and the days are inevitably getting shorter.

I can’t recall the last time I had an autumn love.

Pulling out the sweaters and throwing an extra blanket on the bed always meant cold nights alone. It meant closing the windows on summer and falling into dreams of the past few months where I was tangled up in warmer nights, starlight, the grass under my bare feet and glasses and glasses of white wine.

And always there was love.

There was the sound of wheels on the gravel drive and the light from headlights cutting their way across the hedge as I would run down the sloping front lawn and climb into the passenger seat. There was the bright light of morning spilling across the hardwood floor and that exciting young rush of realizing you’re not alone under your covers.

No, never alone. Instead, trapped in a world only you two share. An unknown world to the rest of the world. A place you can temporarily call your own.

I don’t recall ever really having an autumn love, until I walked home last night through the winding village streets and felt the warmth of someone walking beside me.

It’s nice, I thought, to not have to rely on sweaters and blankets anymore.

Who knows where winter will find us both. But all I know is that I feel warm, and loved. And that has always been enough.

Love Love, R

 

welcome to the bright lights

Dear Soulmate,

I have a new love. It’s one that I never saw coming, but that’s usually how great love stories begin.

I’m in love with New York City, and it’s only just the beginning.

I leave Boston on Friday and will have the keys to my very first apartment in my hand by that afternoon. I’ve only recently been introduced to New York so the move is going to be one of excitement, skepticism and enchantment. As with all new loves, I’ll have to be cautious and play it safe. You can’t fall too fast or you risk losing it all.

But there’s a kind of permanence that’s deeply comforting when it comes to falling in love with places. Places, unlike people, don’t move. They’re always there. They never leave. You can wander, stray and set out for new unchartered paths your whole life, but where you’ve been geographically will always be there for you to return to whenever you turn back around. It’s a wonderful notion.

So for all those who have, are and will be embarking on a new chapter in New York City, like so many who have come before… welcome to the bright lights.

Love Love, R

am i crazy?

Dear Soulmate,

It’s cold here in Boston now. The streets are blanketed with snow that finally fell after swirling around on the backs of frigid gusts that have finally quieted.

Christmas has passed now, without any word from someone half way around the world who meant everything to me for ten beautiful days this summer. I still can’t stop thinking about him.

Should I feel hurt? Should I feel neglected that the holidays passed without hearing from him? Or should I just accept that he left and we’ve fallen out of touch.

I miss him. I remember how he told me that I gave him something to come back to. Now I’m not sure he’ll ever come back from New Zealand. I want to cry. I want to crawl into my bed and forget I met someone so wonderful who was so good to me, for such a short time. I want to start over.

My parents and friends are surprised that I haven’t spoken to him in months. I’ve defended him and said that he’s difficult to get in touch as he’s been traveling. He doesn’t have very much Internet access, and he doesn’t have a phone.

But in the quiet moments I keep to myself, I wonder if I’m crazy for giving him so much slack. They say if you love someone that you should let them go. But if this is all I do–all I’ve ever done–will I ever find love that really lasts?

…Something to think about.

Love, I suppose, R

i wish i had a river i could skate away on

Dear Soulmate,

Sometimes I feel like Joni Mitchell’s “River” says all there needs to be said about winter. I’m watching the snow twirl around outside my bedroom window and feeling so homesick for summer, a time when the world was alive and in bloom. Now, all is quiet, silenced under the weight of freshly fallen snow that buries the tracks of summers barefoot steps.

On gray days like these in Boston, I feel like Joni Mitchell when I say that I wish I had a river I could skate away on.

I close my eyes and remember little moments, little memories of love. I remember the way his hands felt in mine, how they fit so beautifully as through they were made for each other. I remember the way he introduced me by my full name to his father. I blushed and smiled.

I remember the way we painted his mother’s shed. I stood in his clothes covered with splotches of white paint on my tanned bare arms and legs. I laughed as we drove to the lake in the afternoon heat. I watched him dive headfirst from the rocky cliff into the water below. I stood in my bathing suit with my hands on my hips, hesitant about jumping into water whose depth seemed uncertain. Still, I dove in anyway, testing the waters. When I surfaced we both laughed and he pulled me toward him under the water.

When I write, he comes back to me. Little moments like these held in time. It’s all I can ask for on days like these when I only wish I had a river I could skate away on… and be brought back to you.

Love Love, R

christmas lights

Dear Soulmate,

These days I see people hanging lights up on trees lining busy sidewalks, or on wreaths outside front doors, and sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who wishes they were taking them down and putting them away.

Although Boston sparkles in the fading daylight with its ornately decorated trees, all I see is the glimmer and glamour of the kind of magic that can’t last.

I remember the way he held me last summer and the words he said as I stood in his driveway crying before I drove back down to Boston. He said New York would work, and that I’d be great there. Now, nearly four months later, I’m not so sure. I told him to try to keep in touch from South America and New Zealand, although I’m learning now how wrong I was in my assumption that he would.

So now I’m going down to New York again this weekend, but will be shifting my apartment search into sixth gear. I won’t be returning to Boston until I’ve signed a lease.

I realize though, that nothing lasts. Every year I find myself searching Christmas lights for the kind of warmth that held me from season’s passed. But I know now that months pass, years go by, and lights get put up as quickly as they get taken down.

So now, I’m going to go where the lights are always shining, and I can lose myself in the belief that everything is wonderful and bright, as it should be this time of year.

Love Love, R

let love be.

Dear Soulmate,

It’s one of those gray overcast days in Boston, and although the leaves are changing it’s hard to see their beautiful colors under the weight of my thoughts.

I’ve gone back and forth a lot in my thinking these past few days. I realized today that if all I have were those ten days with that perfectly lovely kind of love at the end of summer, I’m happy.

I’m not holding out for him–that was never my intention. I don’t want anymore promises from him, or anyone, saying that the time will be better down the road.

For the moment I need to let love be, and walk away. I’m not giving up on him, I just cannot hold onto something, or anything, right now.

I’ll admit that it’s hard to share the joy of a long-distance love story with others. I always let their judgment cloud my own. When people tell me that things won’t work out, that he doesn’t deserve me, that I should be with someone who wants to be with me, I always rethink our time together–those summer nights and days when we were inseparable and wanting nothing more than to be with one another.

Part of me wants to be able to go to bed at night without thinking about him or anyone. How simple that would be.

Love Love, R

beach chairs in boston

Dear Soulmate,

I love Boston in the snow. I feel like I own the city. The streets become sidewalks, and I walk down them I feeling like they have been plowed for me.

Alone in my heavy boots, the city belongs once more to the people who live here. Flights are cancelled, tourists are turned away, and the residents of the city can posess their own piece of shoveled pavement by simply unfolding a beach chair to validate their parking space.

I can hear my breath and even see it against the Custom’s tower and the Garden. The Zakim bridge is nearly empty, only minimal traffic moves cautiously across I-93 before sliding below ground and into the tunnel.

Finally, I feel at home.

Today I remembered why I love this city so much. For the first time in a long time, like seeing an old friend, I felt genuine nostalgia for this city. I remembered all the reasons why I had always returned to Boston- why I had always called it home.

I recalled looking out my plane window and watching the Bunker Hill monument disappear through the clouds, and wishing the plane would turn around. I recalled anytime I heard Boston in casual conversation and how my eyes would light up. I recalled how I felt upon seeing signs for Boston in Hartford, Portland, Concord as I made my way back home.

This feeling is a lot like love- the kind you fall into over and over again, unsure if the last time was really that pivotal moment that changed everything.

This feeling is how I will feel about you- like coming home. And in the quiet of a fresh snowfall I will be able to hear you breathe beside me as we leave footprints behind us in the snow.

Love, R

post valentine’s day

Dear Soulmate,

Now that Valentine’s Day is over and lovers can return to their routine rituals of being in love- something that looks a lot like Valentine’s Day everyday- it is safe for a single girl like me to venture back out into the world.

The aftermath of this Hallmark holiday is perhaps the best part. Boxes of once expensive chocolates are now on sale, flower arrangements that are still in bloom are half-price, and there’s no one to bombard you with that dreadfully discouraging question that asks who your valentine is.

But it is also a bittersweet time, too. People return to the daily grind without any major impending holiday on the horizon to look forward to. Newspapers are printed with headlines so redundant that they have lost their impact. Now where do we go?

If you are like me, then you probably just wanted to stay in bed today and hide. But there are always things to get done and progress to be made.

I cannot help but wonder how much more enjoyable this long, cold season would be if you were beside me. In your absence though, I am writing to you.

Maybe someday I will print all these letters out and neatly stack them for you with a ribbon around them.

And I will send them to you with love.

Love, R

she’s just not that into you

Dear Soulmate,

Am I the only one who feels like there needs to be another movie to justify dating failures called, “She’s Just Not That Into You”?

But perhaps the reality of my resistance to see the film, “He’s Just Not That Into You,” is because I have already seen it before. And when you see it outside of Hollywood, in the unscripted realm of everyday life, it changes you in ways that the two-dimensional big screen cannot.

It is always hurtful to wonder why your love was not enough, or why it did not work out with someone with whom you wish it had. And after all the shoulders for crying have been used up and your friends have offered all the advice they can give, there comes a time for genuine healing.

It may take awhile, sometimes years. But forunately for me, someone who never gets anything right on the first try, life offers infinite opportunties for success. The choice is up to you to take it.

And so as I sit here alone, focusing on the work due tomorrow and enjoying a tall glass of freshly brewed French Vanilla iced coffee, I am assured that no one will find me here- not even my soulmate.

And perhaps that is not such a bad thing, seeing as my hair is in a disarray and I’m donning one of my Dad’s oversize cashmere sweaters that I was reluctant to steal without him noticing.

But the point of the matter is that finding love means putting yourself out there, even at the risk of someone telling you that they are “just not that into you.”

I suppose the real question I should ask myself now is if you, my soulmate, are worth braving Boston’s freezing-cold temperatures today.

Love Always, R

could he/she be my soulmate?

Dear Soulmate,

They say that eyes are the windows to the soul. And if you have ever exchanged intimate eye contact with someone, then you may be able to relate to the validity of this statement.

I’ll admit that it has been awhile since I have stolen those painfully obvious chemistry-infused glances with someone. And although I strongly discourage cliches, these are the kind of glances that literally leave you breathless and void of thought. These are the pivotal moments that may even leave you to wonder, “could he/she be my soulmate?”

As I walked to the subway this morning, a delicate balancing act to remain standing as I treked cautiously across sheets of unsalted ice, I began to think more about the handsome stranger whose eyes left me to wonder their color.

He didn’t look at me while we talked, as we awkwardly stood side by side on the train last Thursday night. But several weeks before he introduced himself to me, I recall stealing several glances across the room that left me wondering if there could be mutual chemistry.

And so now the guessing game begins- that crazy, bubbly, exciting period of pre-love that makes you believe that anything is posssible. It’s the niave stage of love, although one who believes that love is blind could easily argue that all stages of love are niave. But regardless, it could be the start of something new, the start of something wonderful.

The best advice I have to anyone who may be standing on the edge of love, like nervously peering into the ocean while standing on the planks of a dock warmed by the summer sun, my advice to you is to jump, and do so head first.

Love is crazy, but it takes you to some pretty amazing places. It’s not one for the unadventurous and certainly not one for the unenthused. So take each moment in stride and keep your chin up.

You never know who could be waiting to fall into your eyes.

Love, R

p.s.  share the chemistry

it’s nice to meet you

Dear Soulmate,

I looked for you today, but I simply could not find you. In your absence, I began to unravel some memories of former loves- as I usually do when I stand unenthused waiting for the train. My hands were buried deep into my pockets and my face hidden under my scarf. But somehow none of the memories that came to me were enough to keep me warm.

Boston was cold today. And being from New England there are different kinds of cold. There is a kind of cold that is more mild, usually accompanied with snow. There is the kind of cold that sends you indoors to build fires and make hot cocoa. And there is the kind of raw cold that is usually intensely dry air that can be carried on the wings of an Arctic wind.

And then there is the kind of cold that people are able to emit simply in their silence and distance. This kind of cold is the coldest of all.

But what kept me warm today was the thought of that guy who introduced himself to me last week. And although I made a point not to pay attention to the color of his eyes- I began to imagine, as the train rolled through dark tunnels, what color they may be.

At my meeting tonight, he did not show. Still, the thought of seeing him had kept me warm enough. To be quite honest I feel as though I have harnessed a fifth grade kind of crush on him- the kind of mild infatuation that develops merely from brief interactions with one another, a simple “it’s nice to meet you.”

And I realized, as I watched my breath dissapear like smoke against the faded glow of street lights, that sometimes you have to look ahead to the future for warmth.

And when I do look ahead, like standing on the edge of a subway platform peering down the tracks to see where they bend around the tunnel, I can’t help but believe that if they led me to you- then I’m on the right track.

All my love, R

outside of love: revelations on being single

Dear Soulmate,

As I sit here at my dining room table, afraid to even think about venturing outside and subjecting myself to winter’s dreadfully cold winds, I instead focus my thoughts on you- or the lack of you.

As I reflect back on Thursday night’s train ride with my seemingly handsome stranger/office crush, I think about how unlikely it was that we met, at that moment. As I walked home that night from the station, I wondered if the reason for our meeting was fate’s secret way of just saying, ‘go for it.’

boston's 'nightlife'

But whatever the reason I have decided to write off our chance encounter as merely another chapter filed in my mental catalog titled ‘don’t overanalyze.’

And rather than find comfort in the seemingly simple statement, ‘what’s meant to be will find a way,’ I will instead reside comfortably in the notion that being on the outside of relationships, also known as being single, sometimes has its advantages.

Rather than throw myself back into the fiery ring of love, I would rather just observe for the moment. I suppose I will continue to stand on the outside until I find someone who makes it worthy enough to jump back in.

Love and Cheers, R

on my way to you

Dear Soulmate,

January is beginning to take its wear on Boston. The sidewalks are coated with patches of unwanted ice and periodically sprinkled with sand and salt that accumulate to form a messy wintry slush. The subway and buses are crowded with tired scarf wrapped faces and newspapers printed with repetitive and discouraging headlines.

The phrase ‘happy new year’ seems as out of context as having a good day. Yes, it is January. And yes, it is the middle of winter. But resolutions aside, it is a hopeful time.

Although the 9 to 5 grind is  inconvenienced by freezing temperatures, and a a commute often riddled by inclement weather, the days are getting longer and a time of change is around the corner.

Winston Churchill once said that change is only good if it’s in the right direction. As I stood shivering in the cold waiting for the train to arrive at the station, I felt as though any change would suffice as an improvement. But it’s easy to feel this way when you are standing alone.

I recently heard a story about a man in his 70′s who had never been married but did in fact still date. While people may cast criticism on a seemingly eccentric serial dater, I saw a much different situation. In many ways I felt sympathetic and heartbroken.

The truth is that life is hard enough. Imagine going through it alone. I would wish that upon no one.

As the train took me through downtown, winding through underground tunnels, I felt that my direction of travel may not have been the one that led me to you- but it at least led me closer.

Every day I am moving toward you. Bit by bit, little by little we are getting closer. And when we finally meet we will both learn that the time we spent apart was worth the wait to find one another.

Love, R

life is good

Dear Soulmate,

If you’re single, embrace it. If you’re in a relationship, embrace that too. The key to both situations is to stay in love. Think of how dull life would be if you woke up with nothing to love, nothing to strive for.

This Monday morning Boston looked tired. Its streets were slicked with ice and a gray overcast that hung over the skyline like a shield hiding any traces of a more beautiful day. But still, the day looked promising and alive.

Imagine how unapproachable and boring the city would be without the kind of energy that love inspires. While today’s lethargic winter weather is most conducive to melancholy, I refuse to fall under its spell.

It’s normal though to go through ups and downs- life is like that. But it’s also really easy to feel lonely, forgotten and unworthy.

If today has found you feeling blue, just remember that things will change. You never know who you will meet, what you will find and you may be surprised to learn that the best is yet to come.

If all else fails, turn the radio up and slide across hardwood floors in your socks. It’s okay to dance like no one’s watching, even when they are.

Love, R

peace of mind

Dear Soulmate,

If meteorologists get it right this time then we are in for quite the snow storm. Or if you are a like me and desensitized by New England’s seasonal snow squalls, then we are in for a mere “dusting.”

footprints in the snow

Right now though, the view from my window looks promising for a blizzard ripe with the potential for dumping a foot of snow on Boston.

This is not the kind of snowfall that is terribly romantic. Rather than fall delicately it instead swirls around, lost in the biting wind before finally settling on the pavement- much to a shovler’s dismay.

White out conditions remind me a lot of the fog. My mind lingers back to that mysterious lingering mist that hangs over the islands in Maine where the pine trees cast errie silhoutetes.

In the midst of winter, I am reminded of summer.

It is in this same fog and whitewash where I feel slightly trapped but slightly comforted. The beauty of this contraditiction is felt in the silence I feel in both situations.

When it snows, the city silences itself. Traffic becomes less frequent and even walking down an unshoevled sidewalk feels like trespassing. The city pauses for a few moments to breathe.

When the fog rolls in boats drop their sails. The once windy bay is motioness, calm and untouched like a mirror.

Both of these scenarios lend me tremendous peace of mind. But more importantly when I am standing on the dock of a fog shrouded harbor or walking down city streets blanketed by fresh snow, I find forgiveness for things I cannot change.

The fog and snow teach you to look at the present moment, neither ahead nor behind. The restricted visibility allow you to concentrate on the here and now.

So I wonder, why aren’t you here now?

All my love, R

you’re hot then you’re cold

Dear Soulmate,

You know that summer is officially over when your iced coffee freezes after a brisk five minute walk outside.

In effort to keep some traditions of this sunny season alive, I still wear flip flops around the house just to hear that familiar and comforting rhythm of summer tapping against my heels with every step. I’ve been known to flip open the cap of an old tube of last summer’s sunblock just to be reminded of that summer scent.

Why, you may ask, do I live in Boston then?

My life is very much a contradiction in the same way that you may hate to love love or love to hate love.

I love the summer but not in Boston. I love Boston but I don’t like the winter. I drink iced coffee all year although my hands are always cold- even in the summer. I have never dated nor been in a relationship but I have been in love.

Call them lovers, if you will.

Seeing as my generation is going through a phase where people are more inclined to “hook-up” with one another than be asked out to dinner and a movie, I do not see my lack of being in a serious relationship as excluding me from the dating scene. Welcome all to Gen-Y dating- hook-up first, date later… that is- if you pass the hook-up test first.

If I sound less enthused by the hook-up culture, understand that I am simply trying to make sense of it.

Life is full of contradictions- but should love be?

Stay warm, R

stay warm

Dear Soulmate,

If you were in Boston today you may have been just as unpleasantly surprised as I by the dramatic shift in temperature that finally cast all my doubts aside that winter is finally here.

Much to my dismay the wind did not make any direction for walking favorable. The wind even chased my footsteps down the stairs of the subway and underground I finally found relief.

Sometimes Boston in the winter can feel very much like being stuck in a dark subway tunnel. This is when I would much prefer to hibernate.

But then there are those moments when in the passing of strangers you comiserate with one another. With expressions of unenthused understanding you say you would much prefer to be walking in shorts and a tee shirt that having your visibility obstructed by hats and scarfs that hide your face.

Perhaps now would be a good time for me to tell you that I hope you enjoy the winter. This way you may enlighen me with the more glamorous side of winter that I tend to overlook in my anticipation for summer.

Tell me how you used to play in the snow for hours when you were younger. Tell me how much you love the sun on your face when you close your eyes as you ride the charlift. Tell me you love the sound of freshly fallen snow crunching beneath your boots as you walk. Tell me that you’ll keep me warm despite that my hands are always cold.

Tell me that you love me and I’ll stay warm forever.

All my love, R

under my umbrella

Dear Soulmate,

Alas, my favorite time of day; when I can sit down at my computer and its just you and me. Although I strongly dislike the impersonality of Facebook, MySpace and other online social networks, I somehow find writing to you on this level exceptionally intimate. I feel so close to you when I write these letters.

As I read the newspaper headlines today I couldn’t help but think that if one man successfully found a way to finally unite the nation across racial lines, then I will one day find a way to you. Anything is possible.

This afternoon I would have loved nothing more than sitting in a cafe with you talking about politics over coffee while watching the rain fall. Perhaps later we could have sat at a cozy bar someplace where the glow of candles reflect off the polished mahogany counter and laughter resonates over relaxing music.

As the days draw shorter and the weather colder, I feel less inclined to pass my time outdoors. On days like today when the wind shakes wet leaves from their trees and sends them to stick to the sidewalks, I feel autumn quickly slipping away, and I am powerless to stop it.

The thought of you walking down the sidewalk with me under an umbrella, laughing and jumping in puddles, instills in me that warmth and beauty of summer that I long for all year long.

And so I watch as the seasons change while I walk alone under my umbrella, wondering where winter will find ourselves.

All my love, R