flowering arugula

“I wonder if I will lose my audience now that I’m happy?” Was my thought as he came through the door with a bouquet of flowering arugula from his garden and wrapped me in his arms.images-3

I know how to cook with that.

Loneliness has made up so much of who I am. Loneliness is a common thread with me and some of my friends. Now I might turn into one of “those” who do dinner parties in even numbers. One of “those” who have affection available to them like indoor plumbing. One of “those” who don’t have time for Netflix.

I know from years of practice: story requires conflict to be interesting. There is simply so very little conflict in my life right now. It’s one long stream of gratefulness. This amazing man shows up in my life and whisks me off my feet. My daughter is well and happy. I have a lovely home in a great neighbourhood. My last show was a hit and I’m about to go into another. I just got back from Italy. I have amazing friends like Lawrence and Trish who live up the street. I don’t even know that I would keep reading me. “Well goodie goodie goodie for you, the sun shines out of your ass.” Yes. Surely this will get tedious to everyone. This incessant happiness. This unreasonable good fortune?

But tonight I have insomnia again. Largely due to the big pile of bills at my desk. There is a person I need to pay in particular, not just a corporation. I must pay the person. I must pay the person! I’m waiting for that darn cheque to come in the mail. Where is it?! Where is it?! And then there’s so and so who is acting such and such because of blah blah blah. And then there’s seven weeks away in Calgary. And then there’s the relative I love waiting for test results. And there’s the teacher’s strike. And there’s always Christy Clark if I really get stuck for things to gripe about.

Who am I kidding? I will never escape story.

Even if my love life has miraculously solved itself in the form of one incredible man, there are wolves sniffing and snarling around the edges of the campfire in other areas of my life. It’s predictable that way. Impossible bills to pay. Misunderstandings. Accidents. Everyone on the planet currently alive will die. Things like that. Yeah. I’ll always have something to write about.

And strangely, for a second, I feel such a relief. “Oh good! Conflict will not leave me!”

Says the mortal not yet ready for heaven on earth.

And then I whisper, before life catches up to me, “All this joy is a gift, Lucia. Flowering late in the season. Enjoy it while you can. Enjoy it while you can.”


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