Friday, February 27, 2015


I'm in Boston this week, little sweetheart, and thinking of the time I spent here with you. It's even colder than when we were here, huge snowdrifts piled everywhere. Every time I take the "T" across the Charles I think of how after breakfast with you in your sweet little room where the theatre was putting you up, that I'd get into my running gear and gamely go for a run in the frigid air, circling the river by running along one side to the farthest bridge then back again on the opposite side to the nearest and finally home, nearly frost-over, to you. I thought of you Monday when I arrived and later at the theatre for Opening Night. I remembered how wonderful it was to see you on the stage and how nice to be backstage with you, even taking a nap in your dressing room together. I thought of you Tuesday when I went to see the new Anne Patterson art installation downtown - it's a lot like the beautiful one she did in SF at Grace Cathedral, only instead of using ribbon, she's using long strands of aluminum streamers that hang hundreds of feet above the ground, catching and throwing the natural light everywhere, gleaming. I thought of you as I went looking for clam chowder, somewhat randomly and exactly the way you and I did. Remember, my love? It was so cold that night and we wandered and wandered looking for a place that seemed just right before we finally found a beautiful old pub and settled into a cozy booth together to get warm. We were so hungry we not only had big bowls of delicious chowder but burgers too and even dessert! This trip I found the neatest little place right by the bridge, it's been there almost 90 years. You'd love it, my sweetheart. And I thought of you. I thought of you when I went for a long walk the next day and wound up in a lovely little coffee bar called The Kickstand Cafe (Boston is nearly as bike friendly as Davis, my darling!) and I sat quietly with a coffee and a sandwich and softly heard Bon Iver come on over the sound system. And I cried, my love. I cried so hard for you. My heart was so heavy with missing you today my little sweetheart. And I vow to do better with whatever time may be left of my life. To keep you close to my heart and listen carefully for your guidance. Always be with me, Summer, won't you please? And take me with and to you soon and forever. I love with you with all my heart and soul, my little sweetheart. Love you forever.

Monday, February 16, 2015

A lot to talk about...

Little sweetheart, Lesley Gore passed away today. Remember how I sent you her song "What Am I Gonna Do With You" and then you put it on a playlist on your iPod for us to listen to in the car with her song "You Don't Own Me" right after, ever cheeky, and we'd cry and sing? Well, Ms. Gore will be just about arrived up there now, my darling. Bet you two will have a lot to talk about. Tell me everything we I get there and come collect me soon, won't you? We'll listen to that mixtape on the way...

Saturday, February 14, 2015


I've been thinking all day of Valentines with you, my sweetheart, in 2009. Our trip "to the snow" - to Lake Tahoe with your folks. We drove up into the mountains after your last class, in your car- everyone else had gone the day before. The drive was lovely and the whole weekend was wonderful. It was magic then. We'd just discovered Bon Iver, and we sang the songs to each other full of tears and passion, in the fullest bloom of true true love. We rode a snowmobile together, you taking your turn at the wheel first with me holding onto you behind, and you were, as ever, fearless. We cooked delicious meals in the enormous kitchen of the gorgeous house your dad had rented, played board games in the dining room, watched "La Strada" in the basement screening room, pulled giant icicles off the snowed-in back porch, napped on the lower bunk bed in my room. The day before we left, we'd walked past a window display of valentines themed lingerie. You saw a pink polka dot heart on black set of bra and panties, and mentioned how cute you thought they were. So I sneaked back while you were teaching your class and bought them for you, handing the gift wrapped box to you in the car, my eyes full of love. We stopped on the way up for gas at some point and I bought you a hot chocolate (coffee for me) and a pair of Valentine sunglasses. I embarrassed you a little when I asked the cashier if she'd ever seen so beautiful a girl as you. On the last day, after we packed up and everyone except your mom and dad and you and I had left, they told me, with you chiming in, the full story of your double-organ transplant, the surgeries that saved and changed your life (and mine too, now) just the year before you and I met. We drove back through the mountains in your battle-scared blue Prius, stopping at a roadside pass to have the chains taken off the tires. We'd gotten 60 inches of snow the day before. Hours later, we'd be in sunny NorCal again, your dad pulling a couple of tangerines from the tree in your backyard and handing me one. "You're a much better driver than Summer," he said. "Don't tell her I said that." My darling, it's Valentines and these are some of my thoughts. I miss you so. I ache to be with you. Still, I feel you with me. Help me do things right, won't you? And bring me to you, come for me soon. With all my love, my little sweetheart... xM

Thursday, February 12, 2015

"In Her Sweetness Where She Folds My Wounds"

Just read a poem, my darling, that makes me think of you:

In her sweetness where she folds my wounds
there is a flower that bees cannot afford.
It is too rich for them and would change
their wings into operas and all their honey
into the lonesome maps of a nonexistent

California county.
When she has finished folding all my wounds
she puts them away in a dresser where the
drawers smell like the ghost of a bicycle...

- Richard Brautigan, “In Her Sweetness Where She Folds My Wounds”

Feb 12...

On a Virgin America plane to SFO four years ago today to attend the premiere of the short film I made with Summer the July before, spend Valentines Day together and see her Opening Night of "On The Waterfront" in San Jose - wound up replacing her castmate in "Blackbird" so then meant to stay on to do the play with her and then both of us return to NYC in time for my b'day on April 25, to workshop "My Before and After" and see Low in Philly that night. We almost got there, little sweetheart. But I'll see you very soon and forever in the Beautiful New Place. Remembering those last weeks just now and loving you with all my heart and soul. Until that day, my love. Until that day...