Ronin of the Spirit

Because reality is beautiful.

Your loss.

As I write, I let the music flow through my soul.  I see the little white house at the end of the lane.  I see the row of abandoned cars.  I think about the way people looked at my clothes; the way people asked why my family didn’t do the things that theirs did; the way people laughed at me when I talked about my dreams.

Last night my wife and I had a friend over.  My wife and I are not the people that we married.  People grow, people mature, but we love each other still.  Becky talked about how different she would be if she could go back to where she was but being who she is now.  She wondered aloud if I then would still be interested in her if she was so different now.

Considering this I said, “If you had said, ‘I’ve never met anyone like you before.  I want you. I want more of you.  I want more of all of you. I want to know you better.  I want to see more of your soul and your body.  I want to go deeper and know more of everything that makes you, you.’ I would have melted chocolate-like into your hands.”

Upon hearing this speech our friend remarked, “That is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. If a man said that to me I would be his.  We would go through the pretense of courtship, but I would just be his in every way.”

So, these are the magic words.  As our friend said “That is the most beautiful thing…” I was suddenly a younger man.  I was not the man I am today.  I did not have my own place, I lived with my folks.  I did not have a new car.  I did not have a good haircut.  I didn’t have any of the outside things that mark me as who I am.  I was just a desperately lonely boy, the seed of a successful life planted but not yet growing.  Many years ago and miles away, I laid my heart of the table with those words “I just want more of you.” It wasn’t a plea for sex, as she well knew.  It was admitting to her that I loved her, as she had told me she loved me tearfully months before.  But I, thinking that a woman wanted a man of integrity, had told her, to wait.  She’d said it while crying over the loss of her boyfriend (my best friend), and I wanted to give her sometime to really think about whether she meant it or not.  She cried then too.  I was so understanding, so mature, so kind.  Yes, of course she would think about it and give me time to think about it.  Anything for me, this man who treated her with so much respect.

And those words, “I want more of you.”  Followed not by a smile, but a sneer.  It was all a mistake, Israel.  As if I would feel that way about you.

I was the same man, the same heart pumping the same blood.  The only thing different now is that I look on the outside like what I always knew I was on the inside.  Hearing ‘today me’ say “I want more of you” a friend says its beautiful.  Hearing ‘then me’ say “I want more of you” a friend says, “You?!”.

Once, I believed that I had forgiven everyone who ever hurt me. This was because I believed forgiveness was pretending everything was cool.  Well, it’s NOT cool.  Some 10 years later it still stings around the edges.  She could see the broken down cars and little shack at the end of the lane, but she couldn’t see the man who was going to rise above it.  She could perhaps see the the brittle brokenness in me, but not the steel at the core.

I’m sneaking up on my life.  I threw it away when I was about 16.  I not quite back to where I should have been when I was 16, but I am sneaking up on it.  So to the chorus of voices who saw the Wal-mart glasses but not the fire behind them, I just want to say one thing for closure to each before I move on.

Your loss.

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April 23, 2008 - Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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