A better man...

To The Lady on the Train,

 

I belong to you in a way that I cannot express.

Looking into your eyes,  I  see reflected a better man than I am.

 

The Man in the Station.

A moment...

There was a moment... a time and a place and a turning and disentangling of limbs. We have come together to find something, the loss of which would change us. After braving fear of not finding that spark, we found and spent it together.

After looking into your eyes and seeing some far away change, a lifting and swing of weight, the spark now an ember, you turn pulling my arm around to cradle you. The press of your back to my chest, our fingers entwined.

I can see the corner of your eye, your cheek, the line of your jaw.. Your head tilted forward... the grace of the back of your neck exposed... ears partially hidden by the soft waves of your hair...

I am a little afraid still - knowing the fragility of our hearts like blown crystal glass... I bend to place a kiss on you shoulder, my nose resting in the hollow where shoulder and neck meet. And here, in this moment, holding you tight,  I want you to feel all that I am feeling... A moment held here with us still and scared... And in that moment a breath and  another turning toward hope.

Our ember glowing between us and the soft sound of your voice...

A morning walk...

We have come through October with it's wild winds and driving rains. October and damp leaves on the ground and startling darkening evenings. We are now well into November and the days shorten toward winter. November changes quickly - some days a flat grey sky devoid of sun and shadows - but today... Today is a bright cold morning. Frost covers the cars and rooftops - my breath hangs in the air before me for a moment. November - the month of contradictions.


Though I walk past trees with their bare limbs like the slender fingers of old women reaching for the sky, the still cold air makes me feel more alive. Children, laden down with coats and backpacks trudge the street to the weight and promise of the schoolyard. In small clumps of 3 or 4 they funnel toward the bridge - companionship or safety in numbers?

My companion on this walk is a steady dog - nose to the ground and tail to the sky. His large black body and long legs, full of curiosity and a touch of mischief - and a gentle soul, make him an incongruity. He is an awkward galoot who will crushingly slide into your lap and easily into your heart - and in a moment you are disarmed and overcome. He seeps in...

Here in this frosted little gully, all is still - there is no wind. The only sounds are the rustling of frozen leaves under his feet. I keep to the paved path, avoiding the muddy ruts that he takes so much delight in. We will walk to the overpass where the ducks have found shelter and enough muddy water in which to swim. The dog is entranced by their movements and strains to get closer. I notice the cars zooming past me, above me - busy and heading to work, no doubt. This allows me to appreciate my slow plodding and the luxury of time with a good friend.

Already the sun is burning the frost to dew and mist. A bell rings in the distance and I can imagine the stragglers of school children running toward doors. My friend and I turn back toward home. We have a warming day full of promise ahead of us...

Seeing you...

Angel,

Whenever I look at you, I see beauty. Even those times when I can see that you feel small or tired or a little beat up... even then, I see your beauty.. The depth in your dark eyes, corners crinkled, your head tilted down.. In the line of your jaw, from your small, perfect ears to your chin.. In the slope of your shoulders and angle of your elbow and the graceful curve of your spine from the back of your neck to your hips... The way your hair frames your face or pulled back and up into a perfectly contained chaos of brown curls...

Today, you look absolutely radiant.  You are brimming with strength and confidence and joy and light. Hair pulled up exposing the line and arc of your neck... Your eyes are smiling - truthfully, all of you is smiling. In these times, when you seem so happy, your beauty shines like a warm sun - it affects everyone around you - it brightens an entire room...

When I see you, the air changes and I find it difficult to think or speak... My heart races... I do believe that light bends to your beauty - everything changes.

I would have you see with my eyes... just so you could know.

Just me.

I would take you - just as you are...

Angel,

Any man would be extremely lucky to have you, to be with you, and have you in his life. I have been very blessed in so many ways to have had you in my life and to get to know you. I wish that I could express the many and profound ways that you have touched my life.

I have been playing out of my league far longer than I ever expected, and have been far luckier than any one man deserves. But this past year or so has been like the very slow pulling off of a band-aide. I could see and feel you drifting further away - and I was powerless to stop it. It would have been like stopping the tide with cupped hands. I know that the tighter I might try to hang on, the more futile my efforts.

I am stuck. I know that I cannot compete. I know that I am not enough. I know that I cannot be the person you want and need - and if I was selfless - I would let you finish pulling the band-aide from my skin. But I can't - I am far too selfish...

I know that I am the man that will accept you - all of you - for exactly the person that you are. I will watch you and marvel. I am the one who can see you at your very best and at your very worst - and every mood and place between - and see beauty in every moment. When I look at you, I see miracles.

Being that man isn't enough though.

I love you with all my heart - but I am far too selfish to be the one to let you go... and so I will wait for the band-aide's final tug...

Just me.

As fall slides to winter...

Angel,

We have turned the corner of autumn and heading toward winter. Last night was cold and clear with a blue-black sky that let the moon and stars be seen. The night feels fresh and clean and as it slides toward the early morning the city is still and quiet. Everyone has settled in and most are sleeping peacefully. I lay awake in my bed, letting the cold breeze drift in over me as my mind wanders...

I imagine you sleeping in your bed, your breath rhythmic, your body still... I wonder about the noises in your house and if they find their way into your dreams. I wonder if you are transported to a time or place that holds magic for you... I wonder if you think of me...  This cold air carries sound far and clear - I hear the forlorn call of a train's whistle. The trains run through the night and their sound is one of the loneliest..

It brings a melancholy mood over me and so wish that you were beside me now. I long for the scent of you filling this room, the rustle of you turning, and the feel of your weight in the bed beside me. I want to turn and find the warm skin of your shoulder and back curled - and your hair across the pillow. I want to listen to the rise and fall of your breathing and it's change as I move closer to you and then have it return as you drift back to sleep again.

I can imagine my arm around your waist and finding our fingers entwined when we wake. Stirring at the same time, untangling our arms and legs to turn over. As the room brightens with the morning, I am able to see your face and the sleepy smile. Making out your freckles, the line of your nose, jaw, brow, shoulders - I trace them first with my eye and then the soft touch of a finger. I long to kiss you but do not so as not to disturb your drifting between sleep and awake - between dreams and the morning... I will move slow and let my thoughts dwell in your curls, the nape of your neck, your bellybutton... I will have you drift here for as long as possible...

Another train whistle drifts in the window and in a minute it comes again. The train is fading away to the north, making its way eventually out of the city. I turn in my bed and look at the pillow where I wish your head lay. I push a dent into the pillow with my hand and remember a different morning...

Just me.