Tag Archives: long distance love

by

… just another day …

It’s October, 2005, as the leaves take their turns, and
I find friends and work in abundance, staying on the
NorCal Coast.

Alcir is very busy back in Brasil, with his test looming near,
but we talk on the phone sporadically, and he has this
inner smile because I’m back on our coast, the one with
all the memories attached.
He’s been very disciplined, working hard and
hardly drinking,  reading constantly, studying…..
I know he’s very nervous…

Journal:  October 5, 2005
Tomorrow is Alcir’s test.  I am so excited for him, for I know
how long and hard he has worked towards this day.
I know as well that he will want to celebrate, and likely too much….
but I must let go, as anything else is not a choice.

I’ll call him early, to wish him well, sending kisses
and thoughts his way.
So exciting after all these months…
And a Captain’s License in the future!  His Dream!!!

Work going well, money flowing in. So many friends glad to
see me, and it feels so good.
Love it so warm and welcoming, and several folks have said
they were just thinking of me.
Miss Alcir more in a way, because it was here our memories
began….he was Here after all, and places do hold memory.

Mick’s friend Wolfie, the one back in Manchester, who said
the town had 16 bars, and only 14 of them were any good…
that hilarious one… and I picture him on stage with his
wild harmonica, leaned over and tapping his foot…
here’s a quote from Wolfie:

“A religious war is like two people arguing about who
has the best imaginary friend.”

 

——————————————-

by

… home again, home again …

Moving from one reality to another is both invigorating and
frightening.  A certain survival mode ensues, while the thrill
of newness seems to pull the scales from your eyes,
colors take on a brilliance, and happenstance and serendipity
become companions once more.

I have dear friends who move all the time, and I think this is why.
There is no way you can get in a rut, go unconscious or be bored.
Each day is fresh and new.

This stay was just this.  Fresh and New every day.
My dear friend Mick picked me up at the bus stop, and carried
me the two hours it takes to transverse the coastal mountains
and wind along the gorgeous, treacherous Highway 1,
of Scenic Magazines and Car Commercials fame.

He’s funny as shit, so my re-entry was nothing short of
complete hilarious delight.
I do love British humor, and when it’s from the source, it
can’t be topped.
What Is it about Brits ?  Is it the proximity they grew up with,
the genetic brilliance crammed into small dark quarters for
months at a time in the constant gray drizzle that made them
resort to being so witty and creative?  Word play rules!
The mind never sleeps…

With the time of year being what it was, I had immediate work
lined up, and in the next few weeks, I bounced from home to home,
doing what we do best, there in the emerald triangle, as some call it.
Seasonal harvests all over the place, and me right in the middle
of it, and all of it legal.
Gotta love California, the way it accepted the
inevitable with open arms.

I remember the olden days, when I first moved to Point Arena
back in the very early eighties.  Folks had been growing for over
a decade there in that backwoods town, filled with a mix of hippies,
intellectual city runaways, generations of old settler families,
young rednecks with big trucks and pit bulls tied in the back…..
What a place.
The hippies had grows in their back yard gardens, which moved
to the woods, which moved further into the woods, and by then
incorporating sleep overs with guns, helicopters hovering outside
your bedroom window, and hilarious trimming parties.
Rip offs became part of the deal, and folks grew more and more,
having to leave a portion for each: rip offs, cop raids, and the rats.

If you grew enough, you’d have enough left over to get you
through to the next year’s investment, and maybe
a trip to Bali or Baja.

Now my friends all had legal grows, and although everything was
quiet and within the close circle…. because all of the above was
still present….. there was a certain relax that settled quietly on
those happy little get togethers.
They were smaller than they used to be, two or three or four
friends sitting for hours, meditatively manicuring in whatever
fashion that particular house required…
Every house had it’s own style and look,
depending on the destination.

I stayed in trailers, large and small.
I stayed in guest rooms, elaborate with exotic decor.
I sat with one old friend in a basement,
while we talked about our grown kids and old times,
when Janice Joplin was her roommate.
She showed me some of Janice’s clothes she still had.

I slept on couches, and dark workshops.
I shared in group suppers with old friends…. I sat alone
working, housesitting while everyone was traveling.
Each week had its own flavor and joy.

One thing was sure…. I had abundance.
And Alcir was so jealous.  He loved that hippie world,
and always wished he could have been there.
I think that was one of his draws to me…. my hippie-ness.

I had been there for the Real Thing, and the sixties
were indeed filled with little bits of heaven.
We were making it up as we went along….
Peace and Love were pouring over all of us,
handing flowers to cops, everyone hugging….

Free Love and Freeing our Minds.
Timothy Leary and Native American sweat lodges in
real Sioux Teepees.
The old Renaissance Fairs, sleeping on the ground by the creek,
drums all night, the Hells Angels serving as our Security Force.
AH, those were the days.

And here I was, in the midst of old and new, each generation
lending it’s brilliance and vision to the dream we all held
for a kinder gentler world.

 

—————————————-

 

 

 

by

… her birthday …

It was 9-11, and I knew it would be a hard day for him.
Nothing to do with the US, just that it was the birthday of
the daughter, and he’d been dreading the day.

I called him yesterday, and he said he was studying hard,
because tomorrow he planed to go to the store early and
get drunk all day.

“Well,” I said…”I’ll be here if you want to talk.”

“I won’t be wanting to talk.”  he replied.

So about one pm, just when I was about to leave for Jeff’s,
he called.   There were two hangups before, but…

“Call Back!” he said. “I’m worth a minute…”

When I did, and he picked up, all he said was…

“I don’ wanna talk…just listen…”

“OK…” I blurted…

And there, through the airways come these sounds…

“Come a little closer…. Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleepin…We could dream this night away.
But there’s a full moon risin…Let’s go dancin in the light
We know where the music’s playin…Let’s go out and feel the night.

Because I’m still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I’m still in love with you
On this Harvest Moon….

When we were strangers….I watched you from afar
When we were lovers…I loved you with all my heart
But now it’s getting late…. and the moon is climbin high
I want to celebrate……See it shinin in your eye

Because I’m still in love with you
I want to see you dance tonight
Because I’m still in love with you
On this Harvest Moon.”

When it was finished, he was back on the line.

“This is my proclamation to you!” he said.
“Those Canadians… they always last.
Like a turd, you flush it and it just stays there…”

He laughed at himself…
“Guess that’s why they’re so close to the asshole…”
…he snickered again…  “I just made that up, just now”

“So…how’s that for someone who had nothing to say,
and a Canadian said it all for me…
That’s how I feel babe.  It’s all true.
In all this misery, I forgot the one good thing in my life,
and that is You.
Thank you for being in my life”
…”Wait…..are you sobbing?”

“No, just a couple tears…”

“Oh you woman…!”

“Thank you for being in My life” I returned..
“We Both deserve it”

“Whatever!”

“Whatever!…..Bye!”

“Bye…!’

Odd thing was…. I realized later that
that very night Was the Harvest Moon.

…and I knew it was no youtube….he’d just been playing his Records…
…. he had no idea it was the Harvest Moon in the US….

 

————————————–

 

 

by

… he returns …

It’s September, and after many weeks of sporatic calls,
hits and misses, Alcir comes back around to the himself
that I know and love, and begins talking.

He’d had a job for a short while… one he loved, working in
the Bay, laying some sort of lines… I think it was electrical,
and he was ecstatic.

“So, you like it?”
“oh it’s so good… I ought to be paying Them”, he laughed.
“I drive this boat around, jump in the wadder when I wan’ to,
catch a fish….. I am a very happy man.”

That didn’t last too long.  The funding got cut, the project was
dropped, and he was completely in the dumps again.

Still, there were the classes now,  the ones for a
Captain’s License, and that gave him hope.

Back in August, he called after spending time in the bar,
explaining celestial navigation….
…. a crowd had gathered…he had felt so proud.

Then he began lamenting about his daughter, and at last he
cried, sobbed uncontrollably.
I felt grateful that he could do this with me, but more so,
I was happy for him that he got some of this pain out.
As a woman, I know how important it is to cry.

“This thing is killing me,” he began, “and I’d just End it, but
I’m too much of a coward. ”

“No, that’s not true” I replied…
“It takes a braver man to stay and feel it, to grow.”

Now the daughter came up again… it was eating away at him,
as the mother and he were so at odds, she wouldn’t allow him
to take her, or even see her.

“I told V that I would be alone… an she said
‘No Daddy… I’ll be there’, an I said
No you won’t.   I will be alone now.”

He went on to change the subject…

“When I met you that first time, I was scared… but every time
I turned around I thought of you…and then that 4th of July,
when we did it for real…you fit like you…it…was made for me…
you’re my woman…
…an  now, I wanna be with somebody who shows me how
it is to feel that…
I wanna be with somebody who loves me like you love me…
Oh, I’m gonna put on Frank Zappa records, and fuck you…”

then he turned a corner… he did this a lot… thing to thing

“So Hunter S Thompson died…… an they shot his ashes out
of a cannon like he wanted….oh that’s beautiful!
I want my ashes to be blown out of a cannon…
play a bugle ……play anything…
Saints go Marchin in………..Me and Bobby Magee…
I don’ care…just get me outa there…”

“When I die, I’m gonna sign a paper that says to donate
my liver to science… they need to study me…I’m not normal.
I’m a guzzling V8, built to last.  ”

“I nearly beat the British world record for diving, 419 meters.
I made it to 413…..that was with professional diving equipment,
helium and nitrogen.”

“In my first free dive, I broke 75 meters!  the guys on the boat
didn’t believe me, so I followed the anchor back down, an
brought back some dirt, so they’d know!
I’m not a normal man, babe.  ”

“I don’ believe in God, macumba, gnones, santa claus …
…nothing…but one thing I believe in is a man’s envy….
they give you the Oro Grande…. the Big Eye…
an then I shut up an have another drink.
It’s a man’s ability of another man to kill with envy….  ”

Then, as he closed for the night, the tenderness came…

“I wouldn’t be here tonite, if not for you.
I’d go to the bar, an I’d have gotten in a fight…….
………… oh woman…. ”  and he sighed.

 

—————————————-

 

 

 

by

… onion skin moods …

Journal…July 8th

“I struggled through 3 days of layers, of onion skin moods…
This day I finally figured how to charge my old phone card,
and called him.
He wasn’t home til early afternoon…7 there…I told him…
hmmmm….something…I can’t remember…and he was in a
shit mood, self absorbed, short with me.
I got mad….
“See Ya!”  I said….and hung up.

I felt bad, and after a couple phone conversations,
called him back, and said…

“We promised not to end in anger.”
and he said
“Fuck the Lawyers, let’s talk”…. and we did.

He said at first that he wasn’t sorry he’d told me, just that
he’d told someone who didn’t want the truth, and would
rather live in ignorance…
that actually, he could have never told me….
which didn’t help at all.
In fact, it Really pissed me off.

“Please!  Give me the Respect of letting me go through
3 days of processing, my way…!”  I said…
…emphatically, sternly, clearly.

And the pause let me know that he too was processing…

“It’s not going to happen again…” came the voice, unsolicited.

“Really…?”

“No….. it’s not the way I want to do things…”

“So…what…. you’re telling me…you learned something?”

“Definitely…”

————————–

She thought about the conversations they had had in the last
few days, when he was still high on alcohol, on sex, on
testosterone, on whatever else… and he had tried to
rewrite the definitions of TRUE….
…as in Be True to Me… and
she had found it embarrassing, sad, insulting, self deprecating.

Fortunately for him, he did quickly apologize for breaking the
agreement, which was his discreet and face saving macho
style… and she accepted that.

Her head still spun with these ridiculous patters that went on
like a litany of questions, confrontations… of him and of self…

…what did you get from it, what did it do for you, make you,
give you…was she like me…was she pure…was she a slut…
was she blonde…young, adoring, aloof…what?  what was it?

what was it that turned you on? was she Like me?  something
i wish i could be?  something totally different from me…
…did she inspire you? … what!

In the end, only time and doing things, waiting for the clouds
of confusion and disillusionment to dissipate and pass, allowed
for new skies to form, and created a new palette
upon which to write the future.

 

——————————————–

 

 

by

… the anniversary …

It was the day they got together… hooked up… did it
for reals … and she always had remembered the day.
It was easy… the Fourth of July.

People joke about it, how getting together with someone
was like the Fourth, skyrockets, all that, but it was that
too… and on the very Day, with the sounds and flashes
still reverberating in the night skies.

That was a long time ago.. 1987… yet it was clear as spring
water on a summer’s day.

It’s 2005, and she called him all day.
It was the first time the date had come around since
they had found eachother again.

She called into the night, but no answer.  The phones
were often out in Brasil, but it was odd that no one
answered for so long.
It was mid morning on the Fifth that he picked up…
he’d not been home that long.

“How Are you?”… his jolly voice barked at her.
“Sad and lonely… not good this week” she drifted off.
“Really?” came the response.  Quiet…

“Where have you been?” she asked quietly, the first thing
on her mind, relief and strange wondering mixing in her.

“Oh, I was checking out a job, I was visiting a friend, I got
a haircut… I Knew it was our Day …blah blah …”
…..the list went on, but she wasn’t hearing the details,
only the tone.  A certain manic thing…

“Listen… I have to tell you.  I wasn’t looking, but I got
a haircut, and I ran into someone I’d known before…
(her heart suddenly went dead)

“well, I don’t have to tell you do I?
I’m not going to apologize.
It meant nothing…

“….Say something…!”

She was without words.  The sounds were there, but nothing
came from her lips.  Her breath came in shallow whispers.
(please allow me to absorb this, she thought, but could not say)

“If you go out and do something to retaliate, it’s over!”…
…he shot back at her over the line.

“It was just sex, tits and ass…”
Quickly he evaporated the subject, and his hurried voice
filled in the hollows.

“I want to buy a ticket for my wife to come here…
I caught a 30# fish, I’m good, you’re gonna be so
proud you chose me…”

Still she could not form words… everything was floating.

“I’m not going to say it was the alcohol or the drugs…
I wanted her, she appealed to me …
I’m being modest here…
I had a hard time.  I decided I needed a reward….

“Do you want to think about it and call me later…?

His voice went on in her ear, she doing her best to just
hear what the words were, and put them away for keeping,
to interpret them later…

“If you don’ wanna speak with me ever again, just let me know…
I’ll pay you back what I owe you.  I’ll sell my car, my watch…”

….”Do you love me?”….

While he waited for her to breath again, he started singing
Lou Reed’s  “Walk on the Wild Side”, and when he got to
…”an’ the colored girls sang do de doo de doo…”,
she almost threw up.

“I can’t do this right now” came out of her mouth instead,
and she hung up.

 

————————–

 

 

by

…the week passes…

After the meltdown over the nameless faceless poem, I go
through days of self doubt, questioning everything,
completely letting go of all sense of control, and begin
once again to face my fears.

I make two lists… pros and cons… and consider the good,
the bad, and the ugly of this relationship I work so hard to
maintain.   Am I trying too hard?
One obvious obstacle is distance.  Our lives are so different,
and that alone makes so much out of sync.
It takes will and determination to stay truly in touch, and on
the same wave length, and it has to come from both sides.

Meanwhile, his reality revolved around a sick and aging Aunt,
who he was feeling very responsible for, and the next time
I called him, he’d had little sleep in four days.
Exhaustion and frustration led him to vent at me for
doubting him…  a bunch of rage came at me.

It seems the poem was something he wrote to Me….
before I ever even Came to Brasil… it was his alter self,
fearing all his feelings would culminate in nothing at all,
with my never showing up, and he would be
left with pain and sorrow.
“You Didn’t Come…”

That was the poem, after all.  And why didn’t he Tell me this?
I have no idea. Was he embarrassed to show his fears?
So I had been allowed to stew away, and for some reason
he had felt the need to test me, I guess…

Not much was really said, and all I could do was to
leave him with…”well…call me when you feel like talking.”

Finally, days later, he left a message at my friend’s saying
“I want to talk with you”, and so once again I called.

“I trust No one,” he tells me.
“I have been alone all my life…
This is the first time in my life that I feel like I could
be with someone that is an Equal.

“I am never away from you…
but then you know, if this thing doesn’t work out,
well, I can get another woman…
…maybe not one of the Caliber of you…
but…I can do that”

He gives, and he takes away…

He was drinking bloody marys, relaxing after the Aunt
had finally gotten better and come home from the hospital.

“I think I’m going to have to bury the bitch” he says…
which means he knows he has to stay and take care of her.
“I just keep seeing my Grandmother cringing.”

His Grandmother had been the one person who loved and
cared for him, and it seems that Aunt Maria and she were….
… Companions.
She had been younger, and the Grandmother and
Grandfather adopted her, and gave her a new life, after
living in complete and utter poverty as a child.

Grandma and she were life companions from there forward,
and I guess Grandpa loved Grandma so much, he went along
with it.  An interesting twist in an already convoluted family…

So when Grandma died, Aunt Maria was just Aunt Maria….
she’d been there many many years, and was part of the family.
She had all of Grandma’s dishes, linens, and kept her altar
with all the sacred icons set up in a closet in her house,
which I was privileged to see.
They still cooked with Grandma’s pots, even though they were
old beat up Aluminum,  scratched and poisoning the food…

She and Alcir had Grandma as this huge and mutual bond
together, and it was the mainstay of their relationship.
The rest of it was quite adversarial, competitive, and
they just loved to argue….constantly.
In some ways, it was as though they were siblings…

They would fight over Grandmas things too…even the
little glass dishes, and the forks that kept going back
and forth between kitchens.

Then he made it clear that he wanted me to come back to Brasil….
but while letting him know I planned to, and soon,
I now had commitments and plans, and also needed to
make money for the next ticket…. he certainly
wasn’t offering to pay for it…

“I’m not a very nice person when I don’t drink,” he complained….
“This is me…. you know this me….
I am still here, but I’m trapped inside this shell of a looser….
I want MYSELF back!”

…and then he added one last touching thing…
“I want to remake myself from what’s inside you!”

 

 

by

…the fight…

So now there were plans in place, the ticket was bought,
the house situation was settled, and she had only to finalize
a few things, and it was off to the Big Island…!

Meanwhile, on his end, he seemed to be having more than
several crises…

He tells her that he was sitting on his own steps, when three
guys came over and beat him up.  This obviously had some
sort of history, but she couldn’t quite get the story straight.
He was still drinking, wound up from the whole drama, and
said the guy was going to Die.  …. oh great.

It was a terrible night for her, and an anxious morning,
but she finally got him on the phone, and he hadn’t killed
anyone yet.  Oy!
He was very sad, but he’d gone to a boat show, and his
spirit was lifted somewhat from thinking about his boat.

Journal… May 9th

“So he went back and kicked the guy’s ass… a good whoopin’
he said.  His hand was sore, and he said he loved it when he
heard the ambulance coming for the guy.

He took someone along, gave him his pistol, and after the
fight had started, after the guy was bleeding, the same two
sons who had joined in before, made moves to get into it.

So the guy with the pistol put it to the older brother’s head,
and let him know in no uncertain terms that he’d better just
step back, and leave it to the two of them.
And added that if anything more happened, there would be
serious consequences for him, his wife, his mother,
and all the rest of his family, friends and relations…
That seemed to cool them off, and it remained one on one,
the way it should be.
He said he felt a lot better after that….”

Geeeeeesh!  Men!  and Brasil!  He really has to get out of there.
Could their lives be any more Different right now?

All this did was to make her even more certain that he
needed to leave; and she, for now, needed the islands.

Fresh air, clean outdoor living, swims in the ocean with
the turtles, the farmers’ markets with fresh fruits and
vegetables, and friends who liked to live the way she did.

 

 

by

…ten days later…

She was feeling a little more like herself now, a bit more like
she was pulling her molecules together to become a whole,
after the presence of someone’s strong and compelling aura.
Like moving out of the influence of another planetary pull.
A month was a long long time….

Still fighting the bladder infection that had attacked her in
Brasil, her skin was hived and the body did its best to rid itself
of toxins by sweats and exhaustion.
Medications were in order…

Meanwhile, the questions just compounded themselves, one
upon another, and the more they stacked up, the more confusing
her future looked.  How could she even make plans for anything?

Every Two Days he changed his thoughts of how
this should proceed:
First… she was going back, as soon as her life was processed
and in order … and the house in Ibicui beckoned sweetly…

Then …he decided he would just get the hell out of Brasil,
and come to her and the States.  She loved that idea.

It was obvious he needed to leave that prison he resided in,
the place of his birth, with the presence of parents and all the
hated and hateful memories the place embodied…
…and all the negative habits and connections that were
so easy for him to fall back to…

He had loved it here… she could easily set up a life in her little
seaport of that NorCal coastal town… she was well established
there, lots of friends and contacts, and moving back was a dream
of hers anyway.   He could get back into diving, get his boat…

But then!… Now…. he has decided he needs to get a boat, and
sail here …and it will take time… two years maybe, he says!
What ?  Some sort of odyssey that he now must fulfill?
This was getting crazy making, and her head spun.

What his motivations were, how sound his thinking was, how
clear his mind…or unclear… was out of reach and unknowable.
She wondered if legalities, the wars, the extreme way the US
was behaving, what with Little Bush and the Terrorism Fiasco.
Maybe he was thinking he wouldn’t be able to get into the
US, with his past history in the Legion, and his
Revolutionary actions as a youth…

It seemed like he was loosing faith in all of it, and once she
was gone, it was like he slipped back into confused whirlpools
of old ghost shadows.
Of course he needed to do whatever he needed to do, and she
was quite willing to wait for his own personal resolutions…
But… things had become so unclear…

Journal, March 22…
“Two Years?  What the heck does that mean?  I feel he’s leaving
it all up to me, I feel like he’s not really done anything he said
he’d do… I don’t know how I feel about marriage anymore, as
now, from what he has said, I think he has been married several
times, and never divorced!

I have no idea what the truth is.  I feel manipulated again, and
I cannot allow that to happen.
I need to write clearly what I need to ask and say,  as my life
hangs in the balance… I literally cannot move left or right
until we have some sort of a plan. ”

She had been in a temporary situation when she’d found him, and
now that she was back, it was time to make a move of some sort.
But how could she decide, when all this hung in the balance?

She made a giant list of all the questions raging in her mind …
Basically she wanted the Plan… if he had one.  Something tangible.
When she’d left, he had told her his plans…

*We’d each find out information about marriages such as theirs.
*He’d stop drinking, swim everyday, and loose weight.
*He’d start to create a new way of thinking…

She spoke to him in her mind…
“I don’t see anything of this from you…. I feel like it’s now
all up to me…
You are thinking in the old way, stuck in a defeatist place,
in the toxic environment that you’re used to…
Has anything changed at all…?

I feel like You’re thinking like a LONER, and like,
I can come along if I want…
But you set no timeline, nor make any real commitment…
What has changed for you, since I left…?

I still feel you need to get out of there, to clear your mind…
I need you to meet me halfway, and think in new ways …

We could make money here, convert to Twice that in Brasilian
Reis, and buy our fantasy place, boat, whatever we want…

Three months is my limit to float and wait… beyond that I will
have to set up my own place here, and my income will go for that,
and not our future….

My entire life is on hold, in limbo, and completely confusing…

What do you want?  How do you want that to happen…and
Can you make a plan and hold to it?”

She waited for his answer… in whatever form it might come.

 

 

by

…i’m leaving babe…

Journal, March 8, 2005…..leaving Rio tomorrow.

“She tried without success to see beyond.  To find the path leading
to the future, to their future.  But all was dark, cloudy, full of foggy
mist, tiny lights flitting in when she least expected it.
Lights leading to hope, hopes of a life constructed of dream upon
dream, until it walked in and bit her.  Knocked her in the head
with its head.

That’s what he used to do to introduce himself to someone new,
when he was young… and a few passed out.  She hadn’t passed out,
but Lordy, he surely took her breath away.

She remembered her darling Carrie, who in the last episode
(Sex and the City), had said something wonderful, something so
her feelings…
“I believe in Love, inconvenient, all encompassing, can’t live
without it Love”

And now she’d found it, dreamed it, created it, and it completely
overwhelmed her.  It’s power, the knowledge that no other man
could ever again walk into her life and possess her the way he did…
this one man.
He was the love of her life truly, and the swept away feet off the
ground, the heart over head of it creating waves of pure emotion
without name.   And he had made it clear that it was mutual.

It was completely new territory, another universe, their own world.
.. Wasn’t that what he had said in that first poem….

“Meet me in a timeless world where we can be ourselves.
Where we are who we are..where I can be a true man who’s capable
to love a real woman, without limitations, without lies…
Free to become the most of our possibilities…”…”

 

The Present, May 2012… the story continues…

Reading this journal entry now makes me very sad…
sad for that girl there, the one with such overwhelming mind
stopping emotion and connection with this man.

At the same time, I feel such sadness at having lost it, for I do
love being in love, no matter how impossible it may be.
I believe in it.

The connection between us was real, and still is real.
I know it…he knows it.
He may have tried to move on, but the indelible sting of the
connection between us does not wash away, no matter the effort,
no matter the turning away, no matter what kind of elements you
may try to use, to dissolve away the stain.
Love is like grapejuice stains on the heart…

It’s something in this lifetime that doesn’t get to play out here,
on this particular plane of existence.
Too much territory to cover to get us to a place where who and
what we want is baked long enough and ready for consumption.

But… I think I’ve said this before… I do believe in other realities,
other dimensions, simultaneous places that we sometimes visit in
our dreams, or even at moments where this reality and the other
sort of cross wires, and things bleed through.
Strangely, I almost never dream of him.  And that’s odd, because
I have quite vivid and emotional dreams with other people with
whom I have deep connections.

But there was a magic to the entire thing, with loud and blaring signs
of breaking through the illusion, those signs of that Jungian Web thing,
where everything’s connected, timings, words, clicks,
and simultaneous thought.

These things happened from day one, and although I have pushed
much of the joy and pain altogether, out of my day to day, still
when I review things like I must in order to write this story…..
still there are wellings up, waves of memory of what might have been,
what could be somewhere, sometime, somehow, in another life.

Soul connections, mapped out long before we got here, work to be
done, energies to be shared, knowledge to keep.

We tasted paradise, we drank it in, we cradled it to our hearts, and
we will never be the same because of it.
And isn’t that just great…. and can’t that be enough?