I fully intended on writing something yesterday, but when I sat down I just continued to read this book about a woman who does this eat, pray, love thing in Spain and ends up falling in love with a woman and then something insane happens and she ends up with a blanket full of human hair. It's hard to explain without giving everything away. Not that you are going to rush out and read this book. In fact, I'm not even going to give you the title of the book unless you ask for it because I have already said too much. No, that's false. I have said nothing, which is a remarkable thing to do when there is so much out there to say.
So I will say I have had cravings for coconut cookies, sardine sandwiches paired with champagne, olives eaten straight off the tree and then deeply regretted because they should not be eaten straight off the tree (too bitter), an unusual banana (there are over 1600 varieties of bananas!!!), and probably a pizza because doesn't everyone crave pizza? Except I'm not everyone. I do not crave pizza, but I do not not crave pizza. I am entirely neutral when it comes to pizza.
I have longings as well. Longings differ slightly from cravings. Cravings seem to quickly pop up and disappear, whereas longings are, well, long. They stretch out their arms and legs and make themselves comfortable within the spaces of your life. They are quieter and more secret. Longings lead to scraped knees and calloused hands from all the crawling you do to get to where it is you might not even know you want to go. Longings last. Most of the time they never leave.
But now I will leave. I will leave right now to go search for myself in yet another novel, yet another odd tale (for all tales are odd) about someone finding themselves in 100 or 200 or sometimes even 850 and occasionally in 333 pages. They are all ghosts, they are all friends, and they are all paths on which I gladly crawl.