Did they even call it folk music back then? I can\u2019t remember.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Simon was born in 1898 and I was born in 1902. We were both winter or early Spring babies. I don\u2019t know much more than that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So it stands to reason another reason I thought Simon was HIM is because he was 26 when we met, as was Simon. But I don\u2019t see the time with HIM as wasted because I could have done much worse. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
HIS smile, too, it reminded me of Simon. The way it reached his eyes when HE<\/em>\u2019D look at me.<\/em> But again, it wasn\u2019t him. A suitable companion . . . Or distraction? Until Simon realized who he was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So many things to learn in this life before we were ready to reveal ourselves. And once we figured it out\u2014it\u2019s been the bee\u2019s knees. The future is wide open because we discovered the past. Something about knowing that I could be strong back then and walk away from Simon so I could go after my dreams has made it easier for me to work towards being alone. Which is actually quite good because at least this time the world allows for communicating two time zones away without the limits of telegrams or letters. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Did I play an instrument? Something says the ukulele, but I don\u2019t know for sure. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I wish it was easier to find out all of this stuff rather than having the information dispersed in random doses if my mind is thinking on that particular wavelength. Like the birth years just popped into my head when I was waiting to make a left turn to get sourdough bread. Maybe with practice I can get better at having my questions answered. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He liked me best in yellow. I had no preference\u2014I liked him alone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"