Seven years ago I wrote:
“The vertiginous sky has given way to indigo hues as the setting sun gives way to dusk. I compared my ex’s once omnipresent vitality to the mediocre life I had endured since she left me for a younger man. The infectious she, unfaithful and exuberant to her core, had marked me. Painfully. Permanently. Perpetually.
Until today, when it all changed.
The excoriation of my passion has ceased. I recreate myself. I am Proteus. Vibrant. Alive. My heartstrings are attuned with a celestial harp. My universe is no longer composed of silent melodies. The strumming in my soul is powerful, strident, and evocative of my youth.
Blessed be the ethereal beings who beget you for me. Transcendent, immortal, assured, I bathe in your spirit and I am reborn.”
oo00oo
I crafted those words in my diary the evening of the day I first saw you. It was a Friday business meeting; November in Minneapolis. We connected the moment our eyes met. My throat constricted, my breath labored, I longed to whisper your name in your ear and tell you I adored you. I couldn’t. I was forced by time and place, to say my own name aloud in introduction and then bear the public burden of waiting in silence until you replied with your own.
Melody.
I bless the parent who chose this name for you fifty-five years ago. Dear God in Heaven, thank you. Melody, you unchained me. My bonds of despair and loneliness broken, they lay at my feet. I kicked them away. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, let you see the old man in front of you. I struggled to present myself afresh, anew, rejuvenated.
You freed me from my heartache. Freedom is a powerful aphrodisiac. You freed me and I desired you. I prayed it wouldn’t show. I was too old to lust but I did…for those first few minutes together.
Then you revealed your secret truth to me, first with your tears and then with your words. Perhaps you saw my desire to be close to you. Perhaps you felt me in your heart. There was trepidation in my soul when you dabbed at your eyes. What had I done wrong?
“I’m sorry,” you said. “It’s overwhelming me at the moment.”
The wrenching of my heart was audible and made more evident by the moment of silence following. I extended my hand towards you on the table; an offering of comfort to a goddess in distress.
“Please tell me about it.”
I kept my voice low. You dabbed again at your eyes and confided in me. You spoke of the discovery, the fear, the physical healing, and the return to work. You spoke of your husband and your family’s support. You spoke about the kindness you received during your care.
I was humbled you shared it with me. I wiped my eyes, too. Two strangers, intimate on this one topic. We had our moment; the two of us were one that day.
We see each other once a year now. I am grateful for those moments. We hug, we laugh, and we talk about our lives and our kids and our work. My throat still constricts, my breath still becomes labored. You know I am affected by your presence and I know there is joy between us when we meet.
Our single lunch each year for the past seven lasts but an hour. In that hour, you free me from the shackles I fashion for myself. I am reborn every time we meet.
Our seventh lunch was today. I am Proteus again. I yearned to whisper your name in your ear and tell you I adore you, but the risk was too great. Better to withhold the truth than to risk losing that hour with you each year.
So I will fold this letter and place it in my diary as I have each year for the past six years. Then I will weep for a while.
