A taste of FAITH, a touch of LAUGHTER.
December 1, 2022
I wrote this story (Poem? Spoken Word ? Not sure what it is!) a long time ago but have decided to post it now.
I may record it later….
He came regularly, a number of times a month, for several years. It was almost always the same. He sat in one chair, alone. She sat on the couch, by herself, but sometimes with the dog or one of the cats.
It was a gentle time.
It was a very proper meeting. There were the formalities, the “How do you do”‘s. There were occasional compliments. The exchange of current news. Then there was the conversation. It could be very light. It might be of some deeper substance.
It lasted from 30-45 minutes.
The silences were comfortable. The presence was enjoyable.
There was company. Companionship. Support. A clear expression of care and concern.
Was it love?
The time came for goodbyes, the putting on of shoes. The expressions of gratitude. The parting with promise of meeting again.
A rare hug.
A frequent smile.
A generous wave.
Always the sadness of going, tinged with the hope of another encounter. The leaving, pregnant with the unspoken. Things that could never be said were left alone, unsaid.
Through sudden and grievous loss, she had, previous to the commencement of these many meetings, turned into a stick of wood, a shadow of herself. She had been very badly hurt.
She was cold.
Through his patient care and nurture, she had once again come alive. She was a woman.
Sensual, she knew, but contained.
Sometimes she wrote out her heart. He became her sounding board. He reflected her. He encouraged her. He validated her. But he did not give himself to her in entirety.
Instead, he was inscrutable, unreadable, and, at the same time, profoundly solid.
She felt completed by him. She loved him. Honoured him. Gave her heart unreservedly to him. Prayed for and about him. Adored him. Treasured him.
Was it a comfortable illusion?
Time went on. Things remained much the same. Meetings, phone calls, letters. Mutual respect and deeply cultivated friendship.
One day, however, through circumstances neither could have foreseen, the meetings came abruptly to an end, never to be properly resumed.
Time and water under the bridge.
Finally, one treasured rendezvous. A shared meal. A promise to meet again in like manner.
A time to remember.
The next meeting never did happen. On the heels of it all, in a relentless but necessary procession, rather abruptly, but perhaps, in retrospect, most fortunately, came these other things.
These were quickly followed by a seemingly endless parade of harder things.
In due time, however, came a measure of healing.
A mixed relief.
The knowledge of doing the right thing under the circumstances.
In the end, these meetings, along with all their special moments, could never be forgotten, but, of necessity, deep in her heart, they rested, and remained.
Buried, like unclaimed treasure.
In her heart
(Jan 15, 2018)