I wonder if you remember one of our first car rides together. You couldn’t take your hand out of mine, you rested your hand against my thigh, you drove the long way so we would have more time together. You took back roads that were starlit and magnificent. When I asked where we were going you just smiled and said you wanted more time together. My heart swelled, my mind danced with all those words meant to me.

I wonder if you remember our first kiss. You said that was the moment where there was no turning back. No going back to the innocent embraces or the jokes full of giddy innuendo…it was me and you becoming an “us” after that kiss. Four years ago that feels like just a moment ago. Just a moment ago I had forever with you.

I wonder if you remember all the deep sensual smiles you gave me throughout our time together. Your laughter rings in my ears after a good joke or silly remark. We always laughed together. Some of our most intimate times, where I felt part of your soul, were full of laughter and lightness. It was magical and beautiful beyond comprehension. I still don’t have adequate words to depict their essence. I pray I never will. I pray it all stays a feeling inside my heart and not a thought. Because none of what we shared should be reduced to a thought. Not ever.

I wonder if you remember all the times you silently but warmly hugged me after some of my most scary and sad times. You’ve supported me through the roughest years of my entire life. 17 deaths. Divorce. Parenting struggles. Buying my first home. Moving. Job changes. Every blog post I’ve written under this page you were with me when I experienced those moments. You’ve seen my sadness. You’ve celebrated my victories. You’ve loved me through so much. I wonder if you realize this. And I wonder if it matters to you.

I miss him. 

It’s hard to tell your heart to keep beating when it’s broken. Broken into so many pieces that you don’t even know where to begin. I miss my friend. I miss my best friend. I miss a vital piece of my soul. Just to talk to him. To touch his hand. To look into eyes that love me. To hear his voice soothe my soul. I miss him completely. Our connection is so natural. It was the first day I met him and it still is today. Today though we can’t be natural. Today we have to tell ourselves to ignore the connection and move on. I can’t explain how awful this feels except to say it would be like telling your heart to stop beating or your lungs to stop breathing. You can’t just do that and if you were to try it would be an anguishing amount of pain. This is pain like I’ve never felt before. I thought I was in love with other men before him but this is something entirely different. This man is someone who I could have and still would gladly spend the rest of my life with. I would love him for eternity and any time past that. Sadly, the care and love I had for my husband was nothing even remotely close to the love I feel for this man. In hindsight I don’t think I truly loved my first husband. I’m not eating or sleeping well at all and I’m constantly thinking. I’m beyond exhausted and the only remedy that I’m aware of isn’t speaking to me. He’s only not speaking to me out of self-preservation though. Oddly enough I understand his reasoning and I love him more because of it even though it’s hard to accept. He’s in pain. I’m in pain. Everyone he loves is hurting. It’s not a good situation. I’m trying to exercise as much grace and patience as I can muster. He doesn’t see me cry even though he can see my pain. He doesn’t hear my thoughts even though he’s likely (hopefully) thinking the same. I don’t cry out for him so that I can save him, and me, the pain of rejection. How do you tell your soul no? I am doing my absolute best to take care of him through this. I don’t want to burden him or cause him anymore trouble. He’s suffering enough. 

My feelings are complex. I don’t want to cause him any more pain but I want him to know I’m suffering, too. I want him to know that this matters to me. I don’t want to fake my way through this and give him any false impression that I’m not entirely crushed because I am. I want to be honest and real but graceful and kind. I want to do what’s best for him to show him through my actions just how deeply I love him. Maybe he will see that my telling him “I love you” all these years isn’t just lip service but the honest-to-God truth. Maybe my actions won’t mean much right away but maybe they will in a couple of months once the chaos and drama settle a little bit and he can breathe again. Maybe he’ll be grateful for how I’ve handled this situation and realize how deeply I must love him. It might make a difference, it might not, regardless I can say that I behaved with as much dignity and grace as I could muster under the circumstances. My missing him will become the fuel to exercise more love. I will love him with my action and my inaction. I will love him in thought and in the space between thoughts. I will love him while awake and while I dream. I will hurt, but my love for him will heal me. I have to hope at least.


The Repressed Peach

Let’s meet in my dreams

I want to meet you in my dreams and say all the unspoken words and do all the undone things. Meet me in my dreams and I will hug you and hold you and make it all right. Meet me in my dreams and we will be together. I will walk beside you. I will love you wholly. I will heal your soul with my own. Let me rest my head against yours and share my thoughts. Let me touch your hand and share my desire. Let me gaze into your eyes and unlock my heart. Just meet me in my dreams and all the chains will fall away allowing us to be one. That’s my greatest desire. Just be one forever. Never let me wake up to lose you. In my safe slumber we are one. Just meet me in my dreams and I will be there waiting, needing, wanting you, and all of you forever. 

True stories

I wonder how many of us have stories of the heart that we wish we could share. I wonder what the little black books of secrets would hold that could possibly make me feel better in the midst of my own romance-movie-worthy story. There’s so much shame and ridicule attached to stories of the heart especially when that story isn’t the conventional one and nobody can really understand it unless they’ve lived through something similar. I’m talking of the stories and situations like falling in love with a married man, dreaming of a different love every night while your husband lays beside you, wishing on stars for the old love to return to you while dating the most fantastic person in the world… The stories that people don’t talk about because nobody understands they just shame and ridicule you. But this is the thing…those stories are true stories! They’re the ones we live for and share with our grandkids one day if we live long enough. The stories like The Notebook and Dirty Dancing and Sleeping with Other People are the stories of our dreams. We all secretly want the scandalous love story. We don’t want to be boring or have boring lives. We want excitement and to live fully despite rules and conventional wisdom. Fuck it. Throw that book of rules out the proverbial window and live fully through heartbreak and through bad choices. Somewhere between the safe relationship that is completely unfulfilling and the “wrong” relationship because it’s bad timing and inconvenient, lies a relationship that is both exciting and exceptionally fulfilling in all of the many dimensions a relationship should. And that’s what we are missing in society. But I will fathom a guess that those stories are the very ones that are chock full of truth and clarity but nobody wants to hear because they aren’t “right”.

I don’t want a conventional love story. I want my little black book and the thrills and passion that exist within its pages. I want my story to be a pop-up book that comes to life as you turn each page and the words of the story become the scenes of your dreams. I’m certain that this kind of love isn’t gonna be easy. It won’t always be pretty. It certainly won’t be “right” by many definitions but it will be right for me and my man. People won’t understand and they will ridicule our relationship but if they really knew the truth they would envy the love we share.
I can only pray for a space and time in my life where the love stories I have created, and will create, are seen for the love that was present and not for the rightness of them or lack thereof. In the end, every story I’ve enjoyed is a true love story.