Hold My Hand. . .

"Hold my hand. . .We can change the world. I want to love you the best I can. . ."

Memories of good times. Memories of time yet to happen. I am thinking of you, “Holding my hand.  I want to love you the best, the best that I can. Best I can.”--Darius Rucker.

Goatee, Teeth Picker. . .
Sitting here in Zona Rosa café. Spanish music playing in the background. Green, red, and white plastic flags overhead. Three guitars in the corner. Three well-used greenish, yellow sofas. White paisley prints. One is being occupied with a man wearing a dark blue timberland pullover. He is deep in thought. Keeps picking at his teeth. Why? Don’t want to ask. He has the big, thin light brown moleskin, too. Arms folded back, behind his head. Running his hands through his brown hair. Goatee guy, I call him.Clipboard on his lap. Blue Sony vaio in front of him.

Runner Lovers

Three ladies sit to his left. Lady in pink jumpsuit sweater. Book in hand. White IMAC on her lap. Legs crossed.  Grey and yellow Asic Gels on her feet. Tiny, loop earrings. Brown, maybe auburn hair. Reminds me of Elaine, but not really. Not a dancer’s physique. More . . . not her. Runner, perhaps? 

Next to her is the lady with dark brown hair. Short hair. Kind of Marissa Tomei-ish. Yet, not really. Soft voice. Bagel sits on the left arm of her funky chair. Necklace gold is understated. Small. thin with a tiny amethyst draping her neck. Between them is a wooden maple-stained desk. Lady in pink has black glasses on the desk. Next to her, tupperware. Marissa has her mocha frap to her left. Both of them are siting in what looks like comfortable, orange mad-hatter chairs. Unusual, in they have huge chair backs.

In front of the two is a lady with a grey hoodie. Her chair is brown. Short in a tiny pony tail in back. Near the base of her head. Dark Honey Brown is her hair color. Looks comfortable, relaxed. She is wearing a red, not pink, headband. Band covers her ears. I can only see her back. Orange umbrella is at her feet. She has runners shoes. Grey with blue streak. Puma, I think. Definitely, not Nike or Reebok.  Runner, probably. Wearing some Levis denims. Deep in thought, reading something. Coffee table is empty. Its maple stained.  Green windbreaker is to her right on the floor. Next to the empty glass mug. Not a tea. No, tea bag like mine. Guessed right. Sweater read in Maroon block letters, "Northwestern Cross-Country."

Saints Outside the Window

An older couple is in front of me, by the window. I can see palm tree out the windows. Three sombreros are overhead. Two at the corners and one in the middle of the wall, over the window. Raining outside still. A white, meshy curtain is tied in sections. Windows have metal guard. An iron wrought of some sort outside. It has curls and what looks like the points of the New Orlean Saints Emblems. They play tomorrow. Super Bowl Sunday. I’d like to see them play. But they are playing Manning and the Colts. Supposed to be a classic. On ESPN, they used John Madden video game to project the winner of the game. Saints won on that one. I like Brees and Bush. The city would be jumping. Anne Rice's hometown team. Also, like the Colts, though. My first football jersey I got was Manning's. Peyton one of the best QB's in history. Still have it. Still wear it. Used to be snug. Now, not as much. Thank Nike+ sensor and my like to win.

Learning From Others. . .

Cafe Zona was a suggestion from the lady of the bookstore. I asked where she would go. It was two floors, two stories. I was sold.  Getting the insight of someone’s else experience, likes and dislikes. Asked the lady that gave me tea. Earl Grey, African something. And Jasmine bags. Tea bag--Jasmine, is the glass mug next to me. Waiting for the photos to come out. Its my journey to see the author Anne Rice. Got here a couple hours early because I was up and it was raining and it was fun. Been taking a few mini-adventures lately. Sometimes in the company of family. Sometimes its journey by myself.

Hold my Hand. Hold my hand. I want to love you the best I can. 

Em, you are not with me, but I think of you often. I want to love you the best that  I can.

Capturing these moments and putting it out to the Blogger Universe. Just trying to find a thought that comes to mind. Another Hootie line.

Goatie Guy packed up and left. Think I will do the same soon. Laptop battery is dying and I want to post this up before I head to Rice’s signing at the Vrooman across the Colorado Blvd street.

Raining outside. Landslides. Boulders. Floods in were on the news report on the radio. Food show was pre-empted for storm watch. 

If the sun comes out tomorrow, let her be. . .

I know not where this adventure takes me. I know it has been a good one so far. Lately, parts of my life have come full circle. They have come home. Open arms. Open hearts and at times closed ones, too. I sent a couple of friend requests to old friends. Maybe they clicked "Ignore." I don't blame them. It is what it is. Hurts, but. . . Maybe they haven’t facebooked in awhile. Maybe they are not ready. I know the feeling. I’ve been in a cave for some time. Want forgiveness, give it. Need time, give it, too.

“If the sun comes tomorrow, let them breathe.”

Em, I love you.

"Last night I tried to leave. She was the same girl I fell in love a long time ago. . .I sat down and cried."

May be if you read this, maybe you can see what I see. Maybe you can understand. Maybe you can let me in your heart and . . .hold my hand. If the sun comes out tomorrow, let her be. . .