Rekindling the flames of past fires
We wander on through this life like a a vagabond - a nomad. We hop from town to town and from purpose to purpose, searching for some sort of unifying bond that glues it all together.
Most of the time, though, we don't see that theme. We see chaos. We see atoms and particles spinning out of control in a ball of exhausted, endless circular movement.
Lately, though, I've had a system re-boot. I have a spring in my step. I have a focus.
Years ago, in the tall grasses of lore and yesteryear, I had a friend who was like a sister. I always worried about her and when we met, we had a pretty deep connection that went below the surface in a frightening way. It wasn't cheesy. It wasn't teenage or hormonal. It was scary.
We understood each other in a very instant way.
Back then, she was a small town girl with a huge heart. She had pie-eyed dreams and the bluest eyes ever known to man. She emanated light, life and energy to everyone she met. She inspired.
The years faded and I lost touch with her as the sands of passing time blew by, creating storms of mystery and uncertainty about her mythical self. I'd hear rumblings of her or a faint apparition from a third party who said 'Oh yeah - I saw her' but I never really believed them.
I thought she was gone. Either gone from this life completely or gone from mine.
As luck, fate and all serendipitous holiness would have it, this past winter, and nearly 20 years since we spoke or saw each other, I found her again. I was combing the online databases of my many networks...and I found a blip on the radar.
There she was...looking like she was still 16.
We quickly connected and the words started to drip out of us like honey that had been preserving and sweetening for ages. We were both as excited as innocent and overalled children in a field of wildflowers and sunshine, dancing in the glow of August.
That was 6 months ago and though we both made a few attempts, we didn't make it work.
This past weekend, I made my way to her city and she called. I went over.
There she was. For real.
She walked out the front door. We choked back tears. We hugged for what seemed like a century.
We talked for hours about the fucked up ways of this world, love, life and all in between. We talked about lost love and the pain within that framework. Tears welled. Even though we sat on a wooden deck. Our spirits danced.
I found my sister, again.
A writer has found his muse.
Sometimes, through all the shit and mire and deep, dark winters, you get a real glimpse of summer - a real glimpse of a soul that lights up the evening pathway like fireflies blinking in the ether. We find our way through the thickets to the cabin. We get in our beds and we close our eyes.
The stars flicker like distant satellites - planets of a foreign world that brightens the backdrop of our bleak existence. We look to the lake and the long, yawning shoreline during a sunrise, and in the calm, we see our own reflection.
Sometimes, when you least expect it, this life is so beautiful that it makes you sick. Fuck all of the wars and the hurt and the hunger. At the end of this long, hard wagon ride of endurance, we find our destination. We let the airplane take off. We get over our shit and call our mothers. We hold hands with our enemies.
And we know...that we will find each other again.
