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10/03/2003: "Morning thoughts on the Rhein"

Saturday morning.
September 20, 2003

I stayed in bed this morning, indulging in not having to get up, no where to go. Nothing promised until rehearsal today at four. Nicole´s apartment here in Cologne is so peaceful, an oasis. I looked across at Maurício, still asleep. Beautiful. My mind drifted to my siblings. Worries about Greg and his prostate cancer. Wondering about how he is doing, and how his wife Randi is. Then I thought about Bill and Betty. Felt guilty about not having been incontact with them since leaving for here. I imagined Jeff getting ready for the pig roast to celebrate his birthday. Since I turn 50 this October, he will next year. That will be a big event. For my 50th I am thinking Berlin? Capetown? I could go with Maurício to South Africa to be there for my 50th and visit Kevin Winge. I thought of writing a letter, sending it to John and having him share it with everyone. Shannon, hmmm, I guess I will always feel guilty that I don´t visit her often enough in the home where she lives. Now, being in Europe, well honestly, not that much changes. Tonight´s show is about death, gifts and losses, paying attention. I guess that brings these thoughts of family. From there my thoughts went to Nicollet Island and my old apartment. The realization that all of my old belongings are gone, gone to others. Some friends, some acquaintences, some strangers. Then it hits me, all of this change is to see, can I have love in my life with a partner? Can I let that happen? Can I have that? Questions arise, doubts. Do I have that with Maurício? How can I build on what we have? Make it stronger, more intense, more palpable? In my worst fears, I am just a deceived sugar daddy. That I give and he gladly receives, and that the difference of our economic realities in this world so totally blinds things that what I thought or wished was love isn´t that at all. That´s my worst fear, but I don´t worry about it a lot. I have been blind and foolish and stupid in love before, and somehow I come out of it all the better. (Not to deny the pain.) Now I am more concerned that my limited Portuguese is our lingua franca. I fear my small vocabulary and lack of ease in talking limits how much we communicate, and that limits our love.
Then, I remember the joy of coming home from work here in Berlin, to find him cooking dinner for us, and I remember breakfasts together, the intimacy of simple domesticity, and I think: I am getting the things I want. I am not alone. I am with someone I love, who has also chosen to be with me. We look out for each other.
Live your life as an experiment, says the teacher. I am doing that. Seeing how it is to live with love.

October 2003
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