My home is back in order. How long has it been since that leaky pipe warned me of all the murky mildew and mold? I don’t remember. It was trash bags ago! Bags of books and clothing, carpeting and so many other things, all gone. I thought I had narrowed my life down to the bare essentials, but once more the universe has the last word. I can live with even less and any pain that comes from that can be born. Things are not what is important in my world. Not really.
I watched the Georgia O’Keefe movie on television tonight and heard my words falling from her lips. I remember her book that you gave me our first Christmas. I lost its jacket last week, but not the book, not that beautiful reminder of us that I treasure.
I had no idea she would understand what I was about to experience. It took me a long time to understand that two people can love with all their heart and still not be compatible. Love does not have to die because it cannot survive the pain of being together. In fact, I still believe love does not die, but how much better it is if love is allowed to move out of the way before being mangled beyond recognition.
I am here now and content. Less lonely alone, but no less in love. Now the love within me is free. Reaching out, blooming again and again, thriving, growing, being. All those ideals I professed to believe in were mostly fear induced contradictions of reality, I know that now.
Living well is not the best sort of revenge. That, too, is a fear induced maxim. Living well is the only way to live. Doing less is irreverent and life is too short for that.
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