It is surreal
. I am across the table
from one of my first love
s. I was 14 when I loved him. Then I thought I was so old, but six years have passed and now I feel so young. He has changed. The intensity that was in his eyes at age 16 has waned. I see a serenity
and a peace in his gaze that I had never known before.
This is the boy who was forced to see a shrink because he put a knife in his arm.
Now he is the man pursuing a doctorate in psychology
, and who saved a patient from suicide
two nights ago.
is beside him, and they are clearly the sort of couple who have built a home inside themselves, becoming complete without the world around them
. Their stare holds meaning I cannot fathom. The touch of their hands is constant and electric
I do not even know this man anymore, but it is still strange to see him in love with someone else.
, now one of my best friends is beside me. We slept in the same bed last night and I laid my head on his shoulder. He is comfortable. He is lovely, and feels a little bit like home
The four of us talk about everything. Four random people with no connection except for a friendship
spent six years ago. It is easier than I expected. When it is time to go we embrace, and the three of them exchange addresses on palm pilot
s like good yuppies.
My ex-lover and I leave them in a shop near Astor Place
where they have found knickknacks that amuse them. The two of us go home to his apartment and I gather my things to go. He holds me and strokes my back. My ex-lover and I kiss goodbye
on the lips and it makes me feel happy and full. But grounded. I know myself and I am not dreaming. What is not meant will not be, but for now I am so close, tied inside to another human being. The care in me swells.
makes me relaxed and sends me to a place of pleasant waking dream
ing. The sun setting over the northern Pennsylvania
sky glows magenta. I am almost crying, staring at the beauty as the hills begin to rain with violet and blue and the clouds grow laced with threads of crimson
. Night descends and the sky is full before me.
The road leads me home. Sleep is in my eyes and I let the work I have neglected slide to bask in this happiness and this intensity in my chest. My journal
fills with pages and pages and pages of lilting scrawl as I try to explain to myself all that has happened and the million things I feel this weekend.
Of the million things I feel, I feel alive