When I returned from the trip, still reeling from The Reaction, I was extraordinarily relieved to see my lover waiting for me, leaning on the car, patient in his naturally suave nature. The dogs were jumping around excitedly, chasing after the gear truck as it turned into the gravel that constitutes the beginning of the Chilkat Guides “yard.” I jumped out of the truck as it rolled to a stop and ran right over to the man of my reality and kissed him.
Breathless with excitement, I said, “Lover, I had the most incredibly moving day…Just magnificent…I need to tell you about it, but not here. Maybe we could go somewhere beautiful and talk?”
“How about the garden? I thought we could spend a half hour or so loving on it before heading home,” he offered brightly, beaming. I thought about it and quickly agreed.
We arrived at the garden, but immediately I felt it wasn’t the proper spot to share the story. It was busy with lots of conversation near us. We did some weeding for about twenty-five minutes, mostly silent, just enjoying the feeling of dirt on our fingers, pulling weeds, watering, and nurturing our fruits and veggies.
After sharing our love in a shade of green, we ate some lettuce and chives the Earth offered us, then headed back to the yard to pick up his truck and drove home. From there we went to Chilkoot Lake to talk while watching the sun disappear behind the white peaks; her rays reaching towards the heavens in a proud, respectful salute to yet another beautiful Alaskan day. The glassy surface reflected the light towards us in what I’d like to imagine as a golden Universal toast to our lifetimes of love.
We sipped a coffee con Carolan’s as I told the story. Once finished, we sat in silence, revelling in the beauty of living a life not taken for granted. We returned to the cabin ready for a warm fire and a bite to eat.
John entered first, and I followed shortly after. As I walked across the kitchen, he stopped me by putting both of his hands on my shoulders and looked at me squarely, his beautiful flecks of jade ignited with passion. He had a slight smile on his lips as he turned me around slowly and pulled me close so my back rested on his chest. I could feel his heart beat between my shoulder blades.
He wrapped his arms across my chest and, resting his cheek against my hair, said simply, “Look at the table. Nobody could ever tell me we’re not connected. We share the same soul. I didn’t want to say anything while you were telling me the story. I wanted to show it to you.”
My gaze moved to the coffee table in the middle of the room, and saw exactly what he meant. The two tiny matching peace signs I’d found in PA when looking for materials for making jewelry were sitting out on the table, surrounded by some tiny shells, beads, and thin wire. I’d picked them out because of how perfectly they’d accent the one I’d bought at the fair that fateful day last year.
“I was working on those today. I pulled it out as soon as you went to work,” he said, kissing my temple, and in that moment, he reaffirmed everything I’d already known. Everything I’d understood clearly since the moment he came to me last summer, sat me down, and asked me to be with him. Everything we’ve been celebrating since he told me he wanted me in his life forever.
Yes, Lover, we are indeed perpetually connected, no matter time, nor space, which is why I can sit here 2,000 miles from you with the earring (singular) you made me dangling from my lobe, and feel as if I’m in your arms, my head on your chest, listening to your heart beat for us. We have been this way for centuries, and nothing makes me happier than having found you waiting so patiently for me in this lifetime.
You are the gluten free almond butter icing that fills my gluten free inner peace whoopie pie. 😀
Storm watchers: Live, laugh, love, dance, and remember to do it unabashedly.
Worry is a waste of the imagination. Tomorrow’s not guaranteed. Live life as such!