With the darkening sky, my mood darkened. As the sunlight ebbed away yesterday, a sadness settled into me. The sense of lonliness and 'something having gone wrong somewhere in the world' was palpable. I set down the book I was reading, and wrote some emails, hoping to distract myself.
But with the last email I wrote, I was brought face to face with my emotions. I'd asked a man the source of his unusual online name, 'Roselion'. He liked the juxtaposition of the fierce with the tender, and it reminded me of Laura.
She used to talk of how she'd decorated an old motorcycle she had with dragons and butterflies, the 'fierce with the tender', and how appropriate this seemed to her personal expression. I took Google to her book, hoping to find the particular reference.
The words 'dragons and butterflies' were not found, so I then used the word 'motorcycle'. I didn't see her story. Oh, how I wished I'd of listened more closely to the tales she loved to tell, for now it is only my possibly inaccurate memory.
As I scrolled down one chapter, I came to these words, describing ME:
"The next three weeks overflowed with happiness. Joan lived in an apartment bordering on the Desplaines river. We spent many wonderful afternoons walking and talking, hand in hand, alongside the gently flowing river. Ours wasn't a whirlwind romance. It was as gentle as a soft summer breeze and the more thrilling for it. Getting acquainted was more electrifying than skiing down a snow covered mountainside, more stirring than playing Gor, more thrilling than riding a motorcycle at over a hundred miles an hour. Each day found us linked together more deeply, each of us willingly giving ourselves up to the needs and love of the other. |
"Joan was simply incredible; An innocent pure and lovely, bereft of guile and deception. Here was a woman who had not yet experienced the full bloom of life, with all its joy and all its heartache, a woman who was eager to make up for lost time. Little things gave her boundless joy and her happiness expressed itself through sparkling eager eyes and an uninhibited grin that gave her the appearance of a little girl in front of the Christmas tree on Christmas morning, her presents a mountain before her. Only a fool would not love one such as she, and I found myself not such a fool."
The slow trickle of tears became an outburst of sobbing. How grateful I am for these words! If it were not for these words, as a concrete, objective thing outside of myself, to validate the reality of those days, I might come to think my memories of Laura as having no more substantiality than just another of my 'Michael' fantasies.
But it WAS REAL! It really happened! My shoulders heaved, as I howled while Julia held me. There again, another tether into reality. I sobbed not alone, I had my dear Julia to comfort me while I sobbed.
I felt better after the outburst. It had been growing in me since sunset and it was good to give it release.