I’ve been telling you how beautiful you are since we were little girls, but maybe a little too quietly or without enough faith. I never lost it in you. Maybe you didn’t believe me. Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe even you didn’t know how.
“But love is always new. Regardless of whether we love once, twice, or a dozen times in our life, we always face a brand-new situation. Love can consign us to hell or to paradise, but it always takes us somewhere. We simply have to accept it, because it is what nourishes our existence. If we reject it, we die of hunger, because we lack the courage to stretch out a hand and pluck the fruit from the branches of the tree of life. We have to take love where we find it, even if that means hours, days, weeks of disappointment and sadness.
The moment we begin to seek love, love begins to seek us. And to save us.”
About 2.5 weeks ago, Mike and I flew out his cousin Steven and his girlfriend, Chelseigh from Atlanta, GA to help us with our renovation, and that was quite possibly the smartest thing we’ve ever done, ever.
I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive the 15 years of time that existed between knowing you and loving you; but maybe it’s hollow lamenting not-knowings, past lives you were only a part of in obscure ways, or distances we utilized as justifications to exist separately in the universe. It feels wrong indulging such a twinge in my heart over something that finally submerged me in much needed hope, happiness, love, and fruition, because I’m anything but ungrateful.
You tell the world who you are in a million different ways. Some are subtle. Some are not. But it doesn’t seem to matter. This world has already got you pegged. When you were born they put you in a little box and slapped a label on it, so they could keep things organized, and not have to think about what’s inside.
Maybe she has her head in the clouds, maybe she hides it there instead. But maybe this isn’t about her or her head. Maybe it’s about a woman’s body holding up the sky, the stars, the universe.
In October of last year Mike and I began shopping around for used RVs and sometime around Halloween weekend we found one. She’s a 37 ft. long 1996 Raven XL and belonged to the Hendersons (no sign of Harry!), a sweet older couple in Falcon, CO who were only the second owners and took such good care of her while they had her. She has less than 50,000 miles and we got her for $12,500, a total steal. We dubbed her the Serenica Landship, found a storage facility to store her for the winter, bought a gigantic winter cover, and sealed her up eager for fall and winter to pass quickly.
Fortunately, they did.
“When we get out of the glass bottle of our ego and when we escape like the squirrels in the cage of our personality and get into the forest again, we shall shiver with cold and fright. But things will happen to us so that we don’t know ourselves. Cool, unlying life will rush in.” —D. H. Lawrence
You’re like a walking sun, but maybe it’s not a big deal. Maybe it’s not a big deal that you take care of me in ways foreign to me, that I can physically feel your love for me emanating from every pore of your body, that it’s you and me against the world.
l think about you on these roads to nothingness, I think about my pain or regret or guilt that have become dead-end branches off my heart forever reminding the blood running through me that I could have been better, that I fucked up, that some things are never undone and never forgiven and never forgotten. Have you forgiven me? Have you eulogized the branches of your own heart? Or are you still struggling to live in harmony with the hurt?