One white gold star is burning high in the black sky above my window.

I wanted to write poetry, but my thoughts are too diffuse for it. Last night was Disting, when I put all old things away and prayed and meditated to enter into this last phase of winter, when all things on earth and in the heart melt and become capable of fostering growth again.

This morning in church, no sign of Dean in his usual place. Then, before Mass starts I turn and there he is, not in his dress clothes handing out brochures and then ducking pack into the sacristy, but in jeans and old sneakers and he plops down beside me and I say his name joyfully. He says, "How are you?" I say, "Fine," and we both laugh.

A few seconds into church he has to get up and do something, I think run into the sacristy. He turns and says, "I'll be right back." No one in church has ever told me they would be right back. Dean is steadily turning into one of the weirdest people I've ever met in my life, an always surprise with a low key Bob Newhart sort of sense of humor. Almost anything I could say about him I could contradict in the next breath. In two short weeks I've seen that many sides of him.

Dean is a church sacristan, very religious, very Catholic. But he hangs out at gay night clubs with his boyfriend until three in the morning. He is kind and gentle to everyone, but maybe not to himself. To beat a dead horse, he is gay, but I have to keep reminding myself of this. He is one of most straightforward grown-up guys I've met in a long time. I doubt he'd ever be coddled or pampered, but I've seen him sitting on his boyfriend's lap, having his hair stroked.

I am always wanting to protect people. That's my trouble. I keep thinking Dean needs a little watching over, but only a little. He's a grown up. He is more than able to take care of himself and I am aware of that. But looking at him I am also aware that he needs support. He is funny, but a little sad. When Maura calls and asks me about today and I tell her about Dean I laugh, but I also think of some of the expressions on his face that I cannot laugh at. I guess you could say he's one of those people I am beginning to take seriously.