Revolving doors all around to choose from, because, like time, life has its circular ways of leading you along deja-vu’s and memorable shared events and when you have something to celebrate, these doors simply offer you their ambient attraction, even though I had a completely different redo in mind for the chirpy remembrance of going steady with my Ivory for fourteen years than that other incident we both at the same time referred to in the car this morning, when we were rushing to our local hospital after I was severely poisoned by tasting home-brew elderberry liquor, probably because some American elderberries were thrown in the mix, sparking an appalling allergic reaction that caused itch all over my body, swellings and nausea, much like when the nurse in him gave me an injection of B12 years ago.
Also very similar: my reluctant and antagonistic attitude towards my love’s best intentions, although this time I allowed myself to be pushed into the car, young Mec nervously on my lap, still very grumpy at the prospect of the menacing plight and the barrage of uncomfortable questions from French doctors and nurses, but reassured by the years between us and the accustomedness they have enforced. To affirm, about halfway through, I checked: “You know we’re not going inside the clinic, right?” Without looking my way, he smiled and said: “But your face is red and swollen, your arms and legs itch and a minute ago you thought you would die.” “I know. I feel fine. I think I’m better.”
In the hospital parking lot we laughed and decide we could stop by a bakery on our way home for something sweet. “Sugar helps”, says nurse Ivory and I could not have loved him more than in that moment, that exact moment where we both realized this is how we roll, me going with him without protest in case things would have deteriorated and him not pushing me against my will now that they didn’t. Such an improvement from the previous episode, where I just told him to leave me alone and went to bed.
I came up with the opening analogy to underline the resemblance of having a puppy then and now, but I guess life is what happens in between anyway. That’s okay, Mec, we’ll walk again tomorrow.