The trees, like lungs, filling with air.

Today SB & I visited a nearby park. We scouted out a late afternoon patch of sunshine & took pictures of each other lounging on a lavender blanket that Gramma handed to us last week with the ominous message, "This blanket belonged to your Aunt Mary... before she died." Everything Gramma gives us is either from a dead relative or a rich lady in Texas.

On our walk to the park we were reminiscing about how cruel we were as teenagers, how cruel most teenagers are. I said that we would have been like Enid & Rebecca in Ghost World, only with mad sexual tension, if we had known each other as teenagers. Instead we met when we were becoming adults. We were 23. I said, "It's like that Leonard Cohen line - We met when we were almost young."

The song, So Long, Marianne, goes:

We met when we were almost young
down by the green lilac park
You held on to me like I was a crucifix
as we went kneeling through the dark

As I ruminated on that line, lying next to the lady I've shared nearly a decade with, I watched the wind run invisible fingers through tree limbs & thought about scenes from Terrence Malick & Sofia Coppola movies. I knew she was thinking the same.