He has a lovely back patio with wind chimes and a large tree that hangs over from the next-door neighbor’s yard. There is a cool breeze that blows even on the hottest days. The furniture is raw wood cleaned with murphy oil soap. In the middle of the table is a pot of succulents he got as a house-warming gift. On the edges near the fence are iris bushes and lavender plants. He has a baby avocado tree that won’t produce anything for years. In the middle of the backyard he has a boxer that chases squirrels or dogs beyond fences. Now she sunbathes. Her Name is Penny. And now in this backyard he has me. It is where I spend most of my time at this house. When we are not together eating dinner, or watching TV, or sleeping, or the preamble to sleeping, you can find me on this patio. It is where I read and now where I write.
The tables where I find myself writing are all similar. They are all rectangular and seat six people comfortably. They are never in an office or study. They are amidst the house or outside. If they are inside they are in a kitchen. I don’t like the idea of missing the coming and goings of people. My mom once described one of my friends as a cat. She enjoyed being in the presence of people. She did not have to speak or interact with them, but if there were people around she would rather be with them then somewhere else. She would curl up with a book while others were watching a movie, or sit in on conversations she did not feel the need to participate in. She would listen and watch. Her first language is Italian. At the time she did not know English fluently. We always wondered if she understood what we were saying. Or did she just read our faces and listen to our body language? I don’t know what she is doing now. Facebook does not tell me of her life a much as others. But I can guarantee she is an artist of some kind. You could just tell she is an artist. An observer.
I will spend my summer on this patio. I will become a natural component to his patio and then to his life. We will get to the point where I leave in the morning to go to work after we share our morning cup of coffee in a comfortable silence. I will kiss him on his lips. A quick kiss because I will be confident I will see him later that evening. Some mornings the kiss will be longer. I will try to understand how to intertwine my life with another.
And then I will leave again.