Once again I lost sleep because of you. No big thing.
I am thankful for my cat, as that cat is my tether to the night, an anchor to my soul when the wind buffets my windows and the cold outside my heart runs too deep. I was tossed about in bittersweet tempest last night, my dreams were saturated with longing and regrets and you. I woke up clammy and blamed the wine, woke up flushed and breathing hard and thought it could be yet another case of sugar lows. But I knew in my heart that it was that chance encounter I had with you last night, that moment of watching you look up, wave and turn away.
I had to think what kind of hardship could be placed on someone if they acted less like a human being to someone who once cared for them? I had to wonder what kind of eternal damnation clause does he have you working under if you say hello to me? What kind of sub-par God spell has he woven, one that, if broken, would cause you to lose your house, your children, your soul? Is it all that much different than the one that you signed that had you toss away your humanity for having loved outside your station? The one that you gave a blood oath to, one that said that what you did, which was a small thing in such a materially laden world, that you gave your heart away to the right man at the wrong time, was such a wicked deed that whenever you see that man, the object of your affections, the one who brought you down, the one who caused you to sin, that you will not only not say a word to him, but that you will turn your back on him, also?
I think of all the heavy words and oaths and promises that can be made, ones that seem almost supernatural in their powers, almost too fantastical in their desired end results. I can only imagine these things, for I can never ask for such things. I am, to some, maybe to many, a "bad man". I am not a man who can crow about his goodness, not one to plead his innocence, not one to hold up his virtues and say "look at me". I cannot cast stones, I cannot judge, I cannot be righteous. I am a man who has been around the block so many times that I have worn grooves in the concrete. But maybe that has given me a perspective on things, a perspective that you gave up on, one that your man cannot possibly have in this world, not in a month of Sundays spent in church with his bible pressed closely to his chest.
I remember one of your letters that landed in my email box after your talks began back in May of'06. I had just started librarian work at the branch and the summer was coming and everything was up in the air. You told me only a week earlier "don't give up on me now, buddy" when I faltered, but in the following letter you knuckled under yourself. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall to hear what it was that was being thrown your way, but it was two things you told me, one, that he said that God wouldn't want you two to be apart coupled with the fact that you "didn't want to leave a broken man" that led me believe that he used a baser form of male weakness to break your resolve, that he used sobbing, pleading, in order to gain your sympathy, to get you to stay. The night your talks began you had one foot out the door and the other in my house, not to say my bed. By the end of the month it was clear that you would never leave him. Such are the power of words, of oaths, of prayers and promises.
So I wake to strange dreams that are populated with you and me and new deals between us. I woke alone under an overheated comforter, to a silent house, to too cold rooms and know that I took a high road to be where I am today. I went down and submitted my weekly unemployment claim and know that my love for you brought me to this place. I know, because I was the one who, with the engine running, wished you a happy birthday from afar. I am the one who, if you saw me on the street today, would not turn his back on you. No, darlin', it would be all about open arms and a widely open love for you.
I wondered about my words to you last night, and then thought of the million and one other things I could have said, or wished I had said, or, wished we had the time to share and chat about. I want to know so many things, I want to laugh with you again, talk recipes, ask about the kids, your family. What became of that brother in law who conked himself on the head? How is your pop? What is your youngest into these days since cowboys and Zorro must be long by now? How is your real Mexican friend doing? Have you done your annual musical outting with her? Is your annual shopping/hotel adventure in Seattle all lined up? Are you going back to Colorado for the holidays? Has he strung the lights on the house yet? Is he still helping you in the kitchen? Are you happy?
I suppose I should have asked that last one before I drove away. I've been wanting to ask you that for months. I've seen your face twice in a year, and both times you've waved and turned away and all I've seen is sadness. I wonder about the price you paid for your sympathy, what kinds of price tags were hung on that relationship you have with him and God that you so willingly signed on for and paid so dearly for in the face of what you really needed and desired for yourself.
You once told me that you couldn't be in a relationship with me because it would have meant putting me first and that would have been a complete and total departure with what has been expected of you, and that was to put God first. I look at your life and want to ask that of you, too. If you and partner are not first in each other's lives, what, then, is the point?
The cat and the comforters kept me warm last night and I finally found sleep after I found tears of release. I woke up to a case of eternal sadness, but I am not blue. I am only sad because I think of you, a woman with such a sense of purpose and sacrifice that she gave up the one thing she could never buy, and that was true love and happiness. Maybe it's not sadness I feel, but a lack, or a loss. To think I was once loved by a woman who is filled with such resolve. You are truly a great one, M, one the finest people to pass through my life. Because of that I will never mind losing sleep over you.
Love, your WHMB
I had to think what kind of hardship could be placed on someone if they acted less like a human being to someone who once cared for them? I had to wonder what kind of eternal damnation clause does he have you working under if you say hello to me? What kind of sub-par God spell has he woven, one that, if broken, would cause you to lose your house, your children, your soul? Is it all that much different than the one that you signed that had you toss away your humanity for having loved outside your station? The one that you gave a blood oath to, one that said that what you did, which was a small thing in such a materially laden world, that you gave your heart away to the right man at the wrong time, was such a wicked deed that whenever you see that man, the object of your affections, the one who brought you down, the one who caused you to sin, that you will not only not say a word to him, but that you will turn your back on him, also?
I think of all the heavy words and oaths and promises that can be made, ones that seem almost supernatural in their powers, almost too fantastical in their desired end results. I can only imagine these things, for I can never ask for such things. I am, to some, maybe to many, a "bad man". I am not a man who can crow about his goodness, not one to plead his innocence, not one to hold up his virtues and say "look at me". I cannot cast stones, I cannot judge, I cannot be righteous. I am a man who has been around the block so many times that I have worn grooves in the concrete. But maybe that has given me a perspective on things, a perspective that you gave up on, one that your man cannot possibly have in this world, not in a month of Sundays spent in church with his bible pressed closely to his chest.
I remember one of your letters that landed in my email box after your talks began back in May of'06. I had just started librarian work at the branch and the summer was coming and everything was up in the air. You told me only a week earlier "don't give up on me now, buddy" when I faltered, but in the following letter you knuckled under yourself. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall to hear what it was that was being thrown your way, but it was two things you told me, one, that he said that God wouldn't want you two to be apart coupled with the fact that you "didn't want to leave a broken man" that led me believe that he used a baser form of male weakness to break your resolve, that he used sobbing, pleading, in order to gain your sympathy, to get you to stay. The night your talks began you had one foot out the door and the other in my house, not to say my bed. By the end of the month it was clear that you would never leave him. Such are the power of words, of oaths, of prayers and promises.
So I wake to strange dreams that are populated with you and me and new deals between us. I woke alone under an overheated comforter, to a silent house, to too cold rooms and know that I took a high road to be where I am today. I went down and submitted my weekly unemployment claim and know that my love for you brought me to this place. I know, because I was the one who, with the engine running, wished you a happy birthday from afar. I am the one who, if you saw me on the street today, would not turn his back on you. No, darlin', it would be all about open arms and a widely open love for you.
I wondered about my words to you last night, and then thought of the million and one other things I could have said, or wished I had said, or, wished we had the time to share and chat about. I want to know so many things, I want to laugh with you again, talk recipes, ask about the kids, your family. What became of that brother in law who conked himself on the head? How is your pop? What is your youngest into these days since cowboys and Zorro must be long by now? How is your real Mexican friend doing? Have you done your annual musical outting with her? Is your annual shopping/hotel adventure in Seattle all lined up? Are you going back to Colorado for the holidays? Has he strung the lights on the house yet? Is he still helping you in the kitchen? Are you happy?
I suppose I should have asked that last one before I drove away. I've been wanting to ask you that for months. I've seen your face twice in a year, and both times you've waved and turned away and all I've seen is sadness. I wonder about the price you paid for your sympathy, what kinds of price tags were hung on that relationship you have with him and God that you so willingly signed on for and paid so dearly for in the face of what you really needed and desired for yourself.
You once told me that you couldn't be in a relationship with me because it would have meant putting me first and that would have been a complete and total departure with what has been expected of you, and that was to put God first. I look at your life and want to ask that of you, too. If you and partner are not first in each other's lives, what, then, is the point?
The cat and the comforters kept me warm last night and I finally found sleep after I found tears of release. I woke up to a case of eternal sadness, but I am not blue. I am only sad because I think of you, a woman with such a sense of purpose and sacrifice that she gave up the one thing she could never buy, and that was true love and happiness. Maybe it's not sadness I feel, but a lack, or a loss. To think I was once loved by a woman who is filled with such resolve. You are truly a great one, M, one the finest people to pass through my life. Because of that I will never mind losing sleep over you.
Love, your WHMB
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