Christopher - Tennessee

I woke this morning from a dream of my old lover. He pulled me in like old times, I tucked my chin into his neck like I used to. Like not a breath has pulled us apart. There was none of the sadness as we made love under the stars. I did bring J. into it though, he was a constant nagging thought "How am I going to explain this to him?"

I took him to a lake in Whistler I know, to swim. I could feel his eyes on my body, feel the cool of the water as it took me in. His lips were warm when he handed me the towel.

Dreams like this confuse me. Are they an exercise, a test?

I called Christopher's family home three months ago and spoke to his mother. I had to ask myself why I needed to call, what purpose did it serve. His mother told me he was happy and they were expecting a second child. Judge me how you will, I did everything I could to convince him not to go back to her... but now, I am amazed that they have made it work. July 22 is their 8th wedding anniversary. My own marriage lasted a year. They should be proud of the world they rebuilt, of the children they love... of the challenges they have overcome.

But then, why do I still dream of him?

There were times in my affair when I would wake knowing he was thinking of me. Or sudden understandings in line-ups or reaching for a bottle of jam in the grocery store, where his presence would hit me, I could smell the warmth of his skin. We had ourselves convinced that these moments were connected, that we were that connected.

It's a hard superstition to shake, even after six years. My god, I type that and am shocked. My entire life ended and began again. This survival of one another, of the experience... of finding myself and losing him.

What purpose does it serve to dream of him. Of the way it felt to be held by that all consuming fire of love.

Now I feel like I must say this. I love J. We have a wonderful life together. Laughter. Adventure. Solid sex and passion. Yes, we have the mediocrity of the everyday. But there is always beauty in the breakdown. Do I know J completely? No... Do I want anyone else? Sometimes I want the sex and fire of someone new. But this is a something everyone feels when committed, isn't it? Do I want to build a new relationship from the ground up? No. Fuck no.

The dream about Christopher is a reminder perhaps. Or maybe it is a product of the book rolling around in my head. Maybe it's my needing J. to love me a little more right now. Perhaps I am needy. (God forbid a woman need a man.)

Today is a beautiful day. We are heading up to the lake this afternoon to swim and laugh and love. Christopher will go back to the shadows.

Maybe, in this crazy world, these words will touch him. And if he was thinking of me this morning, laying awake watching the leaves dance on his ceiling... Christopher will know I was there too.

But life is powerful. That life goes on even through a fire like ours.

G.

First Kiss

A million years ago. Fifteen. Sun drenched, safe on the lake I grew up in. His blond hair, the setting sun... a game on two rocks in the water. Then, when courage overtook me... a kiss.











If only he had known it was such and not me trying to knock him backwards.












With the advent of underwater digital cameras, the rock in Hicks Lake.













G.

What Has Been Keeping Me Busy

Lucy. (Her recall is so great with this name, we are reluctant to change it... Lucy would not have be my first choice.) Lucy is 10 months old and has made her way to us from Regina. Her previous family could no longer take care of her ... if you know Jack Russells you know how intense they can be.

Friends of mine drove out with her on their vacation. Included in this was another Jack, Cooper. (Cooper started this entire love affair for me.) Two women. Two Jacks. One crowded van. I had many texts along the way...

When she arrived it was instant love. I saw only a few pictures of Lucy prior to adopting her, but it was the ears that did me in. It is her imperfection and one of the reasons she is considered "pet stock". And we all know how I feel about imperfections.

When she curls up beside me I am reminded of the black and orange caterpillars that turn into a ball of prickly soft color when touched. Lucy is a caramel version.

Happiness is coming home to a wagging tail.

G.