Indian summer

Yesterday was a series of adventures, moments leading from one to the next. They were all different, all significant (to me) in one way or another.

I was up early, planning on meeting my friend Paul so that we could walk to the Superdome for my first Saint's game. I'd never seen them play live and I'd never set foot in the infamous Superdome, so it was a day for firsts. It was Paul's first game as well (he's from England, where they play football with their feet).

"So this is what Sunday morning in New Orleans looks like, eh?" he said as we walked through the quite morning streets. It made me think instantly of Johnny Cash's "Sunday Morning Coming Down".

We waited for Leo and another friend (also called Paul) at Cafe Adelaide, where I ordered a mimosa and Paul had a bloody mary with so many vegetables in it that it required pruning before he could drink it. We considered the fact that New Orleans has to be a great destination for away team fans, as opposed to, say; the appeal of New Orleanians going to Cleveland to see a game.

Leo and the other Paul arrived and we wandered to the Superdome, which was only a few blocks away. We talked excitedly about the differences in attendance from pre-Katrina until now and how Leo's been a season ticket holder for ages. While we climbed the stairs to go tot he terrace where we'd be sitting, people sang "When the Saints go marching in" and chanted "who dat" in a way that made me excited to be there. I considered that New Orleans has a beautiful ability to celebrate, even in a place that could have been tainted by tragedy. When I caught a glimpse of the field, I smiled brightly, happy to be there with the company I was keeping, having another unique New Orleans experience.

The game itself was a bit of a tragedy, but it was still fun to watch. Afterwards we walked home int he rain, stopping at an Irish pub to get a drink and then wandering on after the rain had ended so that we could get something to eat. We picked up and lost people along the way, but it was all good fun.

The entire night would turn out to be a changing cast of faces, with Paul being the one constant. We'd see our way from one place to the next and others would come and go, each of them leaving something memorable of themselves behind in the story of where we'd been all day. When Paul finally made his way home with his girlfriend, I wandered home myself.

I was enjoying the Indian summer, which allowed me to wear short sleeves into the evening for perhaps the last time this year. I could smell the little bit of dampness that the day of rain had left behind and it was nice. My footsteps were the only noise I could hear, which I noticed because such quiet is rare anywhere near the French Quarter. I thought about how it was time to carve a pumpkin and that I hadn't done that in years. I thought about how I wanted to dress up for Halloween, because it'd been a while since I'd really done that too. I thought about the places, the faces, the day that I'd seen, tasted, smelled and touched and I smiled, because this is my life and right now I can't imagine wanting any other.

the miles between you and I

"You should go, if not for anyone but yourself", Frederic said in his thick Montréal accent. We were sitting at an empty blackjack table at the Palms, out of the smoke and away from the noise of the bar where everyone was gathered. We'd been talking first about my meeting with the owner of his company, about the fact that he and his girlfriend were expecting and then the conversation shifted to discussions of where we were, if I'd seen her, if I planned to. He's smart, successful, kind and I have the utmost respect for his opinion and his advice. I'd already been leaning toward going regardless of the outcome, but he gave me the final push that I needed to make up my mind, see it through.

I travelled to San Francisco unsure if I would or should visit with her; it was an uncertainty compounded by the fact that when I'd mentioned the idea to her in the past she'd responded favorably but always got skittish and became suddenly unavailable when it came time to actually plan things (she's since admitted that nervousness has often been a huge factor in this).

Frederic had suggested I see her because at very least I'll have been able to say that I tried to bridge the cavernous gap between us, whether it actually happened or not. I'd sort of felt like as a matter of principal I should try too, so I went but made alternate plans for the free time that I'd have while I was there, just in case.

She texted me with the address of a bar; someplace between where she lived and where I was staying. I went outside and found the street but with no cabs available in the first few blocks, I just decided to walk. It was just brisk enough that I was thankful for the velvet coat, but not cold enough for the leather gloves. I walked at a fast pace, feeling like I was cutting through the night on a collision course with something big but unknown. We exchanged messages back and forth while I made my way there and I saw her standing outside when I was half a block away. She walked to the corner and met me; we hugged for a long time. It been the first we'd seen of each other in half a year, parting just after the divorce.

She looked good. For a while after the divorce I'd worried awfully about her because I knew she wasn't taking very good care of herself, but she looked good when I saw her, like herself again. We walked inside and ordered drinks, taking a seat in the window while complimenting each other on how we looked.

We spent hours together, talking about our lives as they are now, the relationships we've had since, trying to right a few wrongs and close some of the distance that had grown between us. She admitted that being frightened that things would be worse had caused her to sabotage some of my previous efforts to see her this way. We promised each other we'd try harder.

The next day I was booked out on a late flight and when it was cancelled, it caused me to have to spend another day in San Francisco. We went out to dinner and for a drink again that night and it was lovely; spending time together that wasn't overwrought as the last few times we saw each other were.

I'm happy I made the trip, took the time, saw her again. I'm happy that we could look each other in the eye and part ways better than the way we had the last time. I'm glad that we are on good terms for the first time in ages. I really, really hope that it stays this way.