Confession

Who is to say that the man you looked over in the grocery store and then decided was not “your type” was indeed the key to something you had forgotten or thought lost?

I learned some time ago that surprising things often come in unexpected packages. Yet what has been unfolding for the past few weeks has caught me completely off guard. I am utterly without words to press this down on paper. So forgive me. I am going to butcher this… when it deserves such prettiness.

I am on the cusp of some new moon rising inside of me. Fragile as a robin’s egg and as determined as snow drops in spring.

Remember the you before this you? The one who was self-aware and listened to her heart? The one who understood the creative soul she sheltered and was gentle with that responsibility. Oh yes, there were still all those drunk ramblings and bumping into doors. But she was something to behold.

I had thought her gone. Yes, there is the blog where I get to tune in to that inner heart. But it is not always there and lately and the voices are hushed in whisper. I am more and more the corporate me. The me that everyone sees. I had forgotten what it was like to be looked at and seen. To be heard.

It’s powerful. So truly powerful.

Right from the first words he flung from his fingers, digital font reaching out to snare me softly, introspection. Not his. But mine. A parlour room trick he plays with the light and my ego. And I am completely transfixed.

I am merely a frozen lake that he scrapes back the snow and peers into. There, in the thick liquid of sleep, I am suspended. And he reads the secrets of my body as easily as you do the font in front of you. Or so he would have me think. There may be parts I keep at murky depths but without being able to touch them it is like they sing up at him, begging to be shared in the light.

It’s been troubling. For both J and I. Me in my bright morning blinking and he in his “not quite sure, but know something is off” way. What does not change, what cannot change, is my love of J. It is hard to hold my own in all of this. To maintain my balance. As I bite down on the fist in my mouth, I realize it is my own.

So, my unexpected package. A soft mouthed boy from rural Ontario, all angles and hard lines against my lush curves and city shoes. I don’t know how I had not noticed his blue eyes. So blue. They pin me down and force me to tell the truth. And perhaps that is why, bodies joined, I cannot open my eyes.

There is something coming. I don’t know what. And so I am here keeping my balance.

G