And then, after ten years ... there she was,
standing
at the counter of the coffee shop where, after an
e-mail
exchange which stretched over six weeks, we'd agreed to
meet,
ordering something, her back to me. I
stopped
and just stared at her,
standing
there. She didn't notice me staring. I was
ecstatic
it had come to this. I
walked
up to her, put my right hand on her left shoulder and, for the
first
time
in ten years,
spoke
to the
mother
of
my children:
"Hello Jolin.".
She turned, smiling, greeting me without a shred of effort or
tension. In that instant, ten years had become a mere second, and
we were Jo and Lar again (our erstwhile terms of endearment for
each other). The same space, yet
completely
new. In an instant I
got
a glimpse of her as if
the past
had never
happened.
There was
nothing
in
the way.
I knew I
loved
her. Still.
It was easy talking with her. I said I wasn't wanting or looking
for apologies from her or even explanations. None were necessary.
What I was
interested
in was mapping out
a new future
in which we, whatever it may look like and however it could be
constructed, were
simply
honoring
being
parents
of three
extraordinary
children.
I also made it
clear
it would be OK
if she declined (I would
honor
that too). She was never any good at hiding it when things
touched
her (it's one of her most endearing qualities), and I could tell
this
touched
her deeply.
Coffee stretched into lunch. Lunch stretched into shopping for
groceries at Whole Foods Market until it was
time
to go. I looked at her and said
"I love you
Jo.". No ifs, ands, or buts about it. It's
true.
The way
she is.
The way
she isn't. She doesn't have to change. Unless she wants to.
It wasn't yet
clear
to me whether
it was OK
to hug her (or even whether I had her permission to). Then she
opened
her arms, and so I knew
it was OK
to hug, and we did. It was like holding soft
warm
melting butter. Not a trace of
resistance,
not one iota of
inauthenticity.
And then we
got
into our cars and
drove
away in similar yet different directions, and that was it: one of
the most
remarkable meetings
of
my life
(with one of the most
remarkable
women I've ever known) was over. I can never be the same person
again as I was before we met. This is inspiration! And I'm
inspired.
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