Old Long Since, it means. At least, that's what my brain throws back at me from the recesses wherein the original spelling of whiskey and maps of the Hebrides reside.
I took the early part of the evening to watch You've Got Mail - just a darling little movie and so completely NYC. [Ed: Dear GOD, I forgot entirely about '84 Charing Cross Road' until I hit the IMDB link. What a fantastic movie...sigh...] I don't really care for NYC, generally, but one has to admit it is one of the strangest places on earth. I visited once, briefly. There is a photo - the exterior of the Met museum with a Rodin statue in the view and the park well below. I walked past the Degas statue of the ballet dancer in some surprise. Iconic and yet right there.
But what I meant was that the movie was so sweet and soft - a confection. Meg's wardrobe as ALWAYS was one I would wear today. I adore her nature - but of course she is another Scorpio female so that makes perfect sense.
I've been thinking a lot lately of the past. What has gone by, long since. I remember pictures, instances...my mind tosses images at me and I have to smile. Good times, yes...thus far, it has refrained from the...profane. A kindness...a kind of mercy.
I don't like New Years Eve anymore. I was never really a fan but that instance - that one darker image that I remember as each one passes casts it in stark relief. It was - what? - 2000, I think. We always vacationed in Boulder after Christmas, the Boulderado our home away from home and their NYE festivities the ones we attended. But this one - the music rolled as midnight struck and he turned from me. He turned away as everyone else kissed, even laughingly someone they didn't know that well. And I smiled and looked at my shoes.
So...that is the image I mentally hoist a glass to each time. A remembrance, indeed. To never forget that no matter how much one invests - time, attention, financial and that of love - that investment might ring hollow. It is, perhaps, a bitter view. It might even be that of a - of a kind of widow. Because that night a piece of me died away in the frigid mountain air. Even as the revelers sang beneath the windows.
Long since...I returned to that place years after just to prove to myself that I could do it - that I could go there, alone, and find it just as...healing. And so it was. And always has been. That front range calls to me and I ache to stand in that chill wind, to see the cold stones wending their way across the land, the snow lodged against their shoulders like furs.
Yes, a holiday that I spend in memories and at home. Where the cats snore and the cold is only slight and the land rolls away like a carpet.
Better than that chill time...that deep, wounding ice. Old long since...since I felt that lonely in the middle of a crowd. I can look, now, at that picture and not have to focus on the early morning clouds. I can see myself, healthiest I ever was physically and emotionally, and truly happy.
And new memories will come, new instances to be brought before me when that climb is no longer possible. I like that thought. I think I shall toast to it, instead.