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The happiest of surprises*

August 10, 2012

None of us get to choose when happiness arrives. It is magic when two wide-open hearts find each other after wandering a desert. It cannot be charted, nor marked in ink on a calendar. We recognize that familiar spark in the other person, and then must be brave enough to grab hold with both hands, and prepare for the happiest of surprises.

We all approach the dust with plans, sometimes small, sometimes large, and then we learn what we wanted most of all is often right there: our wildest dreams, realized.

* For Zac & Karin, on their wedding day.

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Choices at hand

August 8, 2012

When she was young, she ate blueberries with her fingers, sorting them carefully before they reached her mouth. It was easier that way to find the withered ones, and the prickly stems, easier to feel the water-balloon puffiness of the big ones gone past ripe.

Now, there was too much pressure to use forks and spoons, to hurry through the bowl of fruit, rather than taking things one at a time. It had become harder to find the perfect berry, so much harder to separate the choices at hand.

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The mutual true

July 24, 2012

We had just finished dancing to “Angel From Montgomery” when she approached us.

You guys have the mutual true, she said. I just made that up.

The mutual truth? I asked.

No, the mutual true. Like, you truly love each other.

We do, he said.

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Choice of direction

July 2, 2012

After all of it, he hoped she would have felt less adrift in the world, more certain of who she was and who she could become.

It is all a choice, he said. You get to pick the direction—any direction is fine.

She sighed, then. She had spent so much time pushed about by the currents around her. You say that like it’s easy, she said. You say that like you’ve figured out the way.

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The forest of lost umbrellas

June 22, 2012

It took them years, but the lost umbrellas made their way to the end of the world and created a low-slung forest. He found it just when he thought he’d seen everything.

Mid-forest, he felt like a giant, looking over the domes of black, yellow, and polka dot. They were shiny and slick, and rooted so firmly he could not extract one to protect himself from the falling rain.

He considered dropping down to lie beneath them, but was afraid of becoming likewise rooted, caught in this world where function lost became art found.

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Illustrate

June 20, 2012

Someone asked me once what I would include in a book about relationships.

When your friends are all ‘meh’ about the person, it’s not good, I said. I blasted right past that red flag.

And, I said, when you stick to a plan with no regard for what’s really happening, it’s a really bad idea.

And, I said, if you’re asking yourself whether this is the person you should marry, and you never get an answer that satisfies you, you probably have your answer right there.

OK, how would you illustrate it? he asked me.

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Going on

June 14, 2012

Wine is not a good thing for you today, he said at the end of a long silence. There has been a lot going on.

That’s ridiculous, she said.

You’re a little upset and wine is a depressant. You shouldn’t be drinking wine. He stood, then, and gathered the sections of his newspapers. I have a key to the room—you do whatever you want.

Well, I guess I’ll go to the room, too,, she said. But he left her there anyway. She stared into her glass, trying to decide her next move.

 

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