Wednesday, July 18, 2012
A week ago, I was happy. I was healing, and working, and being creative. A week ago I was busy. I went to the market, so there would be food we both could eat while you were visiting here. I tidied the house, and put clean summertime sheets on the bed. A week ago I was telling myself that any worries I felt when you did not send me messages were foolish remnants from my past, that you were busy with the many projects in your life, that I had no need to think your heart had turned from me.
I was wrong. I knew I was wrong when you walked up to my door. I knew I was wrong when I smiled and kissed you. I knew I was wrong when you offered a nightwalk, (which I love), and said that you needed to talk and that you knew I listened well. The more you talked, the more I knew I was wrong. I kept wanting to say stop, you are scaring me, tell me you are not leaving me. But I listen well. I hear what is said, even when it is unsaid. I hear what is being said, before it is words. And eventually the words in your heart reached your mouth, and came into the world. Words said cannot be unsaid.
A week ago my hopes and dreams of future joy were destroyed. A week ago I learned that the best me I can ever be was not enough. A week ago you told me that she meant more to you than I did, that your choice is not open to negotiation. A week ago I learned that if the bird walks into a cage freely, no open door in the world will call back the freedom of the sky.
I am sorry that the strength and competence I have earned with such effort let you think I will be unharmed by your choice. Oh, I will continue my life, till the weary body goes to rest. My work here is not done. But to never again have the joy of common ground with you, to never again lie nested in dark and just talk for hours with you, to never again know that you have the watch and I can let my guard down, to never again with you share the joy of adventures with someone who speaks my language, to never again wake in early dawn and see your sweet self asleep beside me.
All the brightest bits, the seasoning that brought savor to my days, the precious gifts this woman has never known before save in stories, and the scent on the wind from other more fortunate folk. That is what you have taken from me. Not the memories, those will stay, but all the long slow fading path into the future, without you to be there from time to time, to share the journey. You have taken away companionship. We swore no words together, and I love you with open hands. But how I wish that open hands could still touch.
Sorrow shared is sorrow halved, joy shared is joy multiplied. The equation always balances. With you beside me, in the times our lives allowed, that was indeed how it seemed to me. The equation always balances. And now, I walk alone into the land beyond, without your eyes to share my joys, without your hand to hold when sorrow stalks my path. What cannot be cured must be endured, and if our plucky heroine knows anything at all, she knows how to endure.
And now I am a desert seed again. The rain came, and the desert bloomed, the land covered with a tracery of green and drifts of color in the soft light of evening. But only for a few precious days.