For the most part, I’ve been enjoying my life again. Happy here in my beloved Happy Hollow. Exploring, discovering, experiencing, documenting, sharing. Doing my job.
Still have the off days occasionally, sometimes feeling a bit of normal sadness at life, my life, the state of the world. There have been some occasional periods I would call depression, but I get through it.
Today started wonderfully with my kitties, and the ducks, and George, and coffee early on the deck.
Then meandering in my meadow full of wildflowers of every size and shape and color, butterflies fluttering by, bees buzzing, the scent of moist earth and subtle wisps of different fragrant nectars luring insects to come and drink and continue the cycles of life and nature…
But later something came across my spirit, a darkness, a shadow, deep sadness wanted to engulf me, but I refused it, yet I wondered what, where this was coming from. This was deeper, different somehow.
Then I remembered what day it is.
Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of the first time I held a woman in my arms in 25 years. Also the first time I kissed a woman in 25 years. And the first time I fell in love in longer than that. The first time I had hope that I wouldn’t die alone, without love, without even holding a woman again.
I remember how scared I was. But also how overjoyed, and overwhelmed, how hopeful, how in disbelief most of all. I remember how I sobbed like a fool. How embarrassed I was…for so many reasons. I remember you said you admired me showing my vulnerability. I was astonished at that particularly.
I’m not sure of the moment I fell hopelessly in love, if it was a single moment. It was the entirety of that day. How you messaged me, breathlessly. Imagine that. A breathless text. That you HAD to come see me. The way you radiated when you bounded up on the deck and our eyes met. You sparkled. You glowed. The way you came and stood in front of me down on the beach looking into my eyes with the universe exploding around us, as if we were the center of a new Big Bang. And I cried. And I froze. I didn’t want to make a mistake. So I just trembled and cried, then feared that was a mistake too.
…
And then it came time for you to leave and I did hold you in my arms finally and we melded in a deep pure hug. Connection. Connected. And we kissed, a shy, sweet, tentative kiss. As it should be between two new lovers, finding each other at last. Believing that, wanting to believe it with all their hearts, but human, and hurt before, with wounds and scars, as everyone has, and so careful, and slow, and cautious. But wanting it, so ready for it, for diving into it headfirst with no fear. Into love.
Love. True Love. At last…
…
You wrote me how your life had changed. How this, us, me, was what you’d been looking for, waiting for, hoping for, all your life. And I believed you.
I believed you.
And I thought, felt, believed the same about you and us.
I believed dreams can come true. Did come true. Had come true.
…
And then …
…
And tomorrow I will get up again. And let George out. And start the coffee. And feed the cats, and wash up. And sit on my deck with my coffee and watch and listen to the world around me, enthralled, as always.
And then George and I will go for our walk around the property, over to Dad’s Park, back along the creek, stopping here and there to see and hear and smell and feel, and take a picture or video, or two, or ten. Then down Cigar Road to the little red barn and cross into the meadow.
In the meadow. The sacred, blissful meadow.
Where life is. Where life abounds. Where George and I are truly alive, and the energy and spirit fills us and renews us.
…
And we go on.
…
Update July 31: and so we did.
https://photos.app.goo.gl/ZuXRg1pJuMnTZU2k6
