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If someone had told me several years ago that I would drive into a hurricane to be with the woman I loved I would have smiled at such a romantic notion but denied the possibility. I had, after all, sworn off love. I was not ready.

So I spent those years preparing myself. Learning what love is. How to express it. To share it. I took the time to learn what it is that I wanted from love and from life. To become the person I am now so if I ever had the chance to experience real love I would be ready.

Last week I drove into Hurricane Nate to be with the woman I love.

At the same time, I also drove out of the hurricane that was once my life. Hurricane James. I left the last remnants of that former life with the furniture and bed, still made, dishes washed and left in cupboards, keys left to a friend as a gift of my former home in North Dakota as I broke free of the chrysalis where I transformed.

I spread my wings and, for the very first time in my life, knew exactly where I was going and what I needed to do.

It took a long time to get here. A lifetime. It is a journey I would gladly make again because it has led me to a place of love and of hope.

My future, while still uncertain in many ways, feels more sure than it ever has. Every step I make is made with faith. With courage. With the knowledge that those steps are no longer made alone. Every step is made with “Us” in mind. It makes a difference.

My heart feels large. Expansive. Enveloping. Full. It has been joined with another, my Beloved, in ways I could only imagine before now. Ways I knew existed but had never experienced.

I have travelled a long way to get here and I have a long way yet to go, but I am, finally, home.

 

 

 

Back from my nap

It was a long nap. I guess I was tired.

I am slowly waking to the momentum which has carried me in its wave like a deep cradle of forward comfort.

The deep house thump and guitar of “Imprints of Pleasure” by Tube and Berger are wobbling my walls as I formulate an attack plan, “keep, leave, throw, burn” as I look at or touch or point out and then mentally check off books, drawers, boxes, blankets, window coverings, clothes, and then follow through with garbage bag, box, side glance, or burn pile.

The list is massive but manageable. Conquerable.

Within days all I have done here will be memory. No one but I will ever recall it and over time the memory will fade. It will become colored by experience and perception and intention until even I will not know the truth of it.

Memory is like that. It so often hides truth in its recalling but so seldom is the truth. It is simply our recollection of past experiences colored by present experiences.

I imagine I will look back to this time with some wonder; how did I do it? How did this happen?

I know those answers. That is to say, I know today’s answers.

Tomorrow it may look just a little different.

Keep. Leave. Throw. Burn.

Very much like packing.