1) not always the cleanest thoughts
2) not a computer around when the thoughts actually come to something rated not X
So I guess it's out there since Smarts' last comment. Yes, it's true. I'm having sex again. Actually, I've been having sex again for the last month. Really really really really good sex. The kind that makes you grin like an idiot ALL THE FRIGGING TIME. But, as cliche as this sounds, it's more than that, more than sex. But on weekends, sex is a big part of it. I wake up in the morning smiling. To me that's a pretty big deal. I hate the I always sound so down on J. Don't get me wrong, we obviously split for a reason - you know, because he was an asshole - but, just for the record, he wasn't an asshole all the time. But it was as if he were scared of where I came from and what I was underneath it all. You know, frightened of what you are underneath... terrified of the stuff that you just can't change and can't hide forever. He had his own insecurities. It just wasn't fair that he tried to make them mine. But that's all the space he's getting. No more. Unless I don't get my Windows CD back. Then I'll be pissed to the rafters and NEITHER YOU NOR HE WILL HEAR THE END OF IT. Let's hope he mails the damn thing.
On Sunday afternoon PC and I went for a walk, through the woods and along the old railway bed, and I think for the first time in about 6 years that I suddenly wasn't restless for redemption, or what was around the next corner, or worried about where I might stand or whose toes I might step on. Sunday afternoon brought along a warm October sunshine, a calmness to my insides and a friend that came before the "boy", who held my hand and kissed me gently. There was no hurry on Sunday afternoon and I felt the most wonderful shower of grace. And I had to do nothing for it - only be in the moment and accept the quiet offering. The night before brought an evening of dancing in a garage at a 65th birthday party - complete with a 106 year old keyboard player that could rock your socks off. PC swept me onto the geriatric dancefloor to an old George Jones song and didn't just hold me close, but also held me tightly. He whispered in my ear and told me that I was beautiful, that he was glad that I was there and then kissed me in the way that every girl dreams of being kissed - because it's not about the kiss that makes that kind of kiss so amazing, it's about how it makes you feel, how it takes you and transforms you and turns you inside out - suddenly you're that girl you always wanted to be in the movies, and you are loved without words and beautiful without ever touching a single strand of hair or retouching any make-up.
Sunday morning seen us waking up and heading down river to mom and dad's for a visit. Mom was home, so we visited there for over an hour - dad was out in the woods with oldest nephew gathering birch bark. We said 'later' to mom, walked out to the river and then headed to Tim's (Tim Hortons - Canadian Hockey and Coffee Whore, who's strongest cult followings are in rural, unemployed Atlantic Canada) and ran into Dad and Nephew, so we sat down and had lunch. Later that evening dad called me on my cell and said "I had a really nice visit this afternoon. Are you in love?" I told him, no, I couldn't throw those words around because once they were said, they would stick and be real and be forever. They weren't something that you just 'put out there'. Atleast not with PC. When I hung up with Dad, I knew that when I did say those words, they would be alright by him. That's a pretty big deal.
On the answering machine after J and I broke up the final time:
Answering Machine: "You have reached Homo and Ms D, we're not in so please leave a msg after the beep! BEEEP!!"
Caller (Dad): WOOOOOHOOOOOO!!!! PRAISE THE LORD!!!"
That's why I love my dad. (And that's me and him)
I guess I'm just maybe finding it a bit hard to write these days because the world around me seems crammed with such good things. I'm still learning lessons, but there's just no struggle. My big fear of the day is that someone's going to wake me up. It's like my feet have touched the ground for the first time in a long time - kind of like I've stopped making really stupid mistakes. Or at the very least, stopped worry about what everyone is thinking. Or maybe that it feels more like gaining than it does giving up. Or maybe I've grown up. Or opened my eyes and took a look around. Or grace. Or blessings. Or the stars aligned and the planets were in formation.
Or maybe it's just what it's supposed to be.
Earth's crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God.
Elizabeth Barret Browning (1806-1861)