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August 8th, 1981
Sunday morning is quiet and peaceful in the Village. Cool grey morning, the sky is milky opaque hanging low over the city. The Empire State Building is shrouded in fog. The damp air ascends from subway grates with that dark smell that is New York early in the morning. Sadie and I walk to Washington Square. A woman moves in a graceful ballet as she practices the slow movements of Tai Chi; across the way a man strums a slow bluesy guitar. Sadie smells about the moist grass. Joggers descend from brownstones singly and in couples. I see deep blue tiles shining like jewels across the top of an apartment building at the edge of the park. A motorcycle putters down an empty street. I think how very much I love this country, this city and my life.
Within the past week some great changes have occurred. Seeing Phil Wednesday night healed the open wound that I have carried for so long. I made amends, both to him and myself. Seeing him affirmed my love for him. He is a wonderful man and his spirit brings me great joy. Knowing that I love him is a source of peace to me. I made peace with him now, and with my past. And it is all OK. As it should be.
Friday night I had a night of romance and passion with David. But I will write more about him later. Now I must got to mass and then into the office. My current life roars forward like a freight train. The ride is splendid.