Monday, March 27, 2017


It has been brought to my attention that I have not been writing. I would like to offer a firm rebuttal that I have in fact been writing, a lot, but nothing that I am at liberty to share. So let's change that by telling a story about a girl at the altar:

People talk about time being suspended and everything stopping in a second when you are in a life and death situation, and I have been curious about it, but I never expected my moment to be here on the one day I have waited to experience pretty much my whole life.
I looked into his eyes, those deep chocolate pools of mysterious, yet mostly transparent, daring and determination, and for the life of me I could not fathom how we ended up here. So familiar, and oh so strange. I looked at that smile, one that has intrigued, kindled, haunted, soothed, and today intrigues even more. And I try very hard to hold on to long-forgotten words from those lips that somehow made me feel safe enough to put on a garter and uncomfortable shoes and drag a 30-pound dress up the stone steps I dreamed about when I was only four years old. 
Part of me sees myself. Unremarkable, manipulative, self-serving and so, so needy. What was he thinking? He is supposed to be smart, and unrivaled intelligence like his wouldn't choose the facade he went down on one knee and professed undying devotion to, or would it? Did that show of confidence and self-assurance really strike a cord of truth? Did I really cradle his ego and nurse his dreams and stand unshaken by his side as staidly as the past 24 months would say I did? I might be a lot calmer if I remembered what I did that had him sending for this emerald piece of sacred family history that is now perched on my finger, just as I dreamed only four years ago.
Who are we really? Together and apart. Why are we here? What crazy thoughts led us to the place where we believed we could do this - create a forever out of nothing, the way generations have tried and succeeded and failed since forever? 
When will we break? How quickly before what used to arouse begins to annoy? What happens after the glitter flutters away and silhouettes become shadows and take real shape? 
The answers never came in that moment. But time had to keep moving.
I looked into his eyes. The trusting eyes of one human who knows no better placing his life in the hands of another who knows even less, and I thought, "why not him? He is just as crazy to believe and primed for surprises as I am". I decided I would be worthy of that trust. Because the woman I am becoming is deserving of the man he will be. 
One woman ran far away from the altar that still May evening, right before sunset when the wind held its breath. Another stayed, squeezing his hand and knowing that questions and answers would lead to more answers and questions, and that they would both die trying not to let go.

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