Dear lost lover

24 hours ago you boarded a plane to a country I've never been to, where they speak a language that alludes me, to a world I have no access to, for six months without me.

The past 24 hours have been a series of mishaps and hard times. I spent the afternoon stuck in my apartment flitting from bedroom to garden attempting to read. Went shopping to put sheets on a twin size bed, as I can't bear the queen any longer. Angst spent over a seemingly overdraft bank account, only to turn out it was a glitch in an imperfect technical system-- just another piece in the series of unfortunate events that have occurred since you left me on the tarmac, with tears in my eyes. Lets recap--

flushed keys (yes, all of them. car included).
wonky bank account.
no paycheck due to a clerical work error.
and now this...

I got a call from Ben this morning. The horses keep escaping. So he says I have to move Mcleod. I am devastated because I already had it in my mind that without you here, it would be the perfect escape from my reality. So I called Kim see if she could pasture her...the well that would make the pastures is no longer working. I have no place to take Mcleod. In some ways its a weight off my shoulders, but in another I feel like I have failed her.

And so I am stranded, unable to rescue Mcleod, waiting on the kindness of the roommates to come and give me a second set of keys. And I miss you. Not with the ferocity that comes with time, I still have breath in my body and I still feel light about you being there and me here. There is no weight in my heart. But I am suffering from its equal. Emptiness.

I am empty. I'm filling my time farming in Griffin for pennies on the dollar to feed us. Filling empty spaces of daylight with 10 dollar an hour credits toward my food share.

And it is that unbearable lightness, that feeling of empty that hurts so much right now. And I keep missing you--your calls, your emails. And the universe all this time is conspiring against me.

keys. cash. horse.

Be safe. Be well. Enjoy the sunshine and the heat of a new place. And tell me how it feels as soon as you can.

all my love.

A year ago today

Facebook is always adding new features to make the lives of its users more efficient, more enriching, and more utterly facebookified. One of those new features is the "a year ago today you said..." I am certainly not one to remember exact dates and what occurred on them, so this feature is surprising, sometimes upsetting, and often revealing.

One such reminder about my status showed up to me on Saturday, it said "Come watch me kick some rugby ass against Chicago today! Infinity Park. 3pm."

Now, this is a rather innocuous facebook status you'd think. Its a rugby game, my team won. The end.

I thought the same thing too when I read it, but then I had one of those thrown back through time space outs where I realized the following--A year ago that day was the Chicago game. The game that changed my life in rather trite and altogether significant ways.

A year ago today I wasn't just playing a rugby game. I also threw my current short term relationship out the door, began a tryst with a women far too old for me, spoke to my now fiancée for the first time, and reignited my love affair with rugby.

Thought for the day:

Let us be crazy, reckless and wild. If you are too careful, both love and God will escape you. - Rumi

They say when you know, you just know

I'm not exactly old. And I'm not exactly wise. But I can tell you that this one, is a keeper.

And they say, sometimes you just know. And all be damned, I just do.

There's something about us. The way we move through the world together is ineffable. There is a quiet in everything we do together, for each other, around each other. She's a puzzle piece that fits perfectly into my life, and I into mine. But even without the other, we are whole. Some days my heart swells when we are apart, and I feel adrift. But then I reminded, without prodding, just how much she cares.

I'm safe with her. Truly and utterly safe. I have not a care in the world when I look at her ice blue eyes or take hold of her hands. In her arms I dream peaceful dreams, I get lost in my sleep, I let go of control.

She's a dream come true.

She's kind. Gentle. Loving. Truly sees me and all of me, both my best and worst parts, and embraces all of them. I don't feel the need to impress her, but I am happy when she's proud of me. I feel like we actually work together, as equals. There are no discussions of who is to clean the dishes, who will drive, who will cook, who will do x, y, z. We both just do these things, without asking, without negotiations.

Simply put, I love her.

But not in the way I am accustomed. I don't feel the need to grasp on and never let go. Because you know what, I don't have to. She's not going anywhere. She's not "MY SOUL MATE!" Or the girl who makes me think "I can't live without her!". She's just the one I am choosing . The one who with everything comes easy. Without knock-down-drag-out-oh-woe-as-me conversations.

And maybe she is my soul mate, or the one I could never live without. And that would be just fine with me if she were.

But that's not the point.

The point is, I see my life with her. I see my future, and I see her in it. And again, not as I am accustomed. I don't see this haphazardly architectured vision of an "us". The kind of "us" I've tried to see with other people--a mirage of something that I've forced into my thoughts. I see honest and simple snapshots of her and I nestled together as a unit. A family. For as long as we both shall live. And none of it feels rushed or forced. It just is.

Some days I still don't believe its real, I'm living in some dream world I'll wake up from.

"How is this possible?" I ask.
"Its just meant to be, I suppose."

If I needed reasons...

Because...
No one else writes their goals on their iPod shuffles.
No one else laughs at my jokes quite like you.
Your smile is enchanting.
I never felt safe before, until you.
I want to wear all of your sweatshirts like letter jackets, tokens of your past life now merging with mine.
Travel is just a part of our lives. There are no discussions we just know that adventures are imminent.
I would go anywhere for you.

And most importantly because you are everything I have been looking for.

By Grace

By the grace of whoever might be holy I met you. And so you were. Just. There.

There were days when you and I would spar at words over judges tables. Those days, I couldn’t imagine sparing with anyone else but you. But we were young, and you were beowolf and I but a petty attempt at shel silverstein. Our poetry was not our own, and we were but mirrors of the people we wanted to be…You something guarded and secret. Myself veiled in humor and drama….

And years past. But somehow we were brought together again. Monologues messed up. Poetry botched. Parents unexpected visits in tiny apartments. Virgina Woolf and secluded kisses. Those moments were hard to repeat and began our vicious cycle of the “what ifs” and “what could have been’s”.

It was Virginia, she was the woman who brought us together. We spoke of hidden waves and flowers bought. We hoped that these words would seal some binds between us…but oh we were mistaken. Visits across rivers were made. Kisses were exchanged, but still that was not enough to keep us together.

One spring we spent a few nights in a king sized bed. Opposite sides. Cues missed. Kisses lost. Drinking mike’s hard lemonades on playgrounds that reminded us that we were no longer children, but at the same time, we weren’t adults. An impass. Childhood and adulthood lay between us, and so we sat on playgrounds hoping that answers would spring forth. The picnic benches were not for us, but neither was the spiral slide. Somewhere in the gravel was where we belonged. But afraid we sat, alcohol in hand, silence ringing school bells somewhere.

Another summer I spent ten hours driving to you. Hours on the road to the middle of nowhere. And there you were—broken, shattered, perfect. We had a taste then, but the morning left nothing but tequila regrets etched in our palms, where love should have been. We shopped for heirloom tomatoes, and gleefully watched a juices spat between our lips. But both were too shy to explain why and how these came.

And now, years later I still wonder what should have happened. What could have happened.

I remember lying in your arms just praying for a miracle.

Those were stolen kisses meant for no one but us.

Phone calls begging for answers.

Messages. Emails. Dreams. Words. Lost.

Somedays I wish I could lie in those arms again. Older, wiser. More us. The us that could’ve told us back then that heirloom tomatoes, tequila, love, and Woolf were one in the same.

To the Woman I Love

She came out of nowhere. One day she wasn’t in my life, the next day she was one of the main thoughts on my mind. There was something about her. A quiet confidence, a subtlety to her entire demeanor that called to me. Something in me begged for more. More contact, more exchanged glances, more words passed between us.

I’d have assumed she was an angel if a) that weren’t so damned clichéd and b) I don’t believe in angels.

I remember very little of how we met (sometime at rugby), how we became acquaintances (eventually by talking to each other), then friends. And maybe I remember so little, because it was so uneventful. So easy. Too easy somedays.

But there she was, a member of my team. A team made up of 40 some-odd women, all of whom were so incredibly different, my mind often felt boggled. But it was her whom everyday would stir something in me. It was her that everywhere I went I was sad to see her go.

I remember Philly.

Had hoped we’d share a room, but instead she stayed elsewhere, without the team. And just like that, she vanished into the city as I awaited a few days to see her again.

I remember the ranch.

Where the two of us suffered under the watch of our rugby coach, hauling palettes, drinking fresh spring water from spiggets in the ground, sleeping in military tents to shield us from the brisk mountain air. She loaned me her jersey because I was cold, and I remember the way it smelled. The way everything she touches smells.

I remember being excited that she was coming with us to Chicago, and devastated when she had to cancel.

And I remember Austin, and the text messages I received from teammates—‘You’re reading into things…’ ‘She isn’t into you…’ ‘Not everyone has a crush on you…’

And from there I hedged. Wrote emails asking for a dinner date, which I never sent. Made plans to visit her in Cheyenne, and promptly cancelled them as butterflies became maelstroms in my gut. We exchanged a few emails; she said she’d be at xyz party. I would always spend the evening curled up alone in bed, not wanting her to see me at my worst or even at my best.

Fate would have it that you can’t hide from such things forever. And a text came, and plans were made. Liquid courage was consumed. And finally, I said something akin to nonsense but along the lines of “Um…I like you. Not just like you but like like you”. Somehow that was all that was required. And just like that there was something more.

Indescribable, simple, peaceful, easy.

To say she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me would be dramatic. But to say I am lucky would be an understatement.

I’d tell you she’s an angel, but we all know what I feel about that.