Learning to love the questions

's been a good weekend, long with much contemplation, a little jealousy, a little sadness.

Last night, on the way home from the spa with B and his parents in the car, I watched the frozen night-scape flit by outside the window, and listened to his dad intone about his own childhood, holidays by the lake and all those memories. And I couldn't help the push back into my own past, into those unforgettable days at GGS, the daytimes, clad in light blue and approval, and then the nights - and I felt myself sink into a kind of funk that was neither good nor bad, just deep.

B and I are doing the 90 day diet, and Friday night we went to a concert at Base in Szfehervar. Everyone was there. Indeed everyone plus another 300 others.
And even without drinking- anything but mineral water - I had a good time. I love the fug of acceptance I feel whenever I'm with Szabi or Mob, the way they love me for me and not for being with B.

But then late on Saturday morning, when we were getting ready to go to the spa, as I put on those hawaiian print bikinis I got walloped with the memory of shopping with Dale down bridge road, richmond and I hated Hated the distance.
Funny then, that getting back to Budapest a couple of hours ago, I felt that despite the anger and frustration I sometimes feel at this crazy Hungarian city, it was good to return to it. Good to see the lights and squalor and crowds.

Learning to love the questions, as Rilke said, for while I may be older than when I first read those precious words, I feel only a little wiser, and even that only sometimes...