The New Month

Little sweetheart, it’s April and a flood of memories commit the turning of the month, each year.

I remember, for instance, that it was April 1st when I flew back out for the second long stay in SF that year we tried giving the city a shot together. I’d come out for two late January til mid March, gone back to sort out my sublet in NYC then back to SF, still looking for a place. The second leg was harder than the first and then I got a series of gigs back to New York, which eventually led to you thinking maybe you’d rather we were both here, instead of there. I just wanted to be with you whenever we found ourselves.

April reminds me, too, of our first days together, really begun that first year in February but growing so strong by April and your first visit here in May. I only really got to have my birthday with you one year, the second one, when you took me to see DCfC in Sacramento and made me spectacular birthday cupcakes as we decamped to the house in Davis alone for the week - possibly the happiest one of my life.

April reminds me too of the saddest, hardest days of all. Returning to New York for the three weeks between your funeral and my speaking at your memorial, held, incredibly on my birthday.

We’re twinned, my gorgeous girl, my beautiful spirit, my little sweetheart, forever. Two halves of the soul.