Hump Day: Mid-week Musings

March 31, 2010 at 11:36 pm (Hump Day: Mid-week Musings)

Carolina Moon

The sky tonight is beautiful.  There is a yellowish-white moon, nearly full, hanging low in the sky.  Its light outlines the limbs of the tree outside my screened-in porch like a scene from some play–the hazy, filtered glow around the moon seems theatrical and accents the moon and the silhouetted trees.  I stand on the porch, smoking, reflecting.  I think of Scin.   As if the distance between us is artificial, I turn my body and comment to her.  She is not there behind me.  I feel silly.  I know she is not there.  Yet, I turned for her as if she were there and I could draw her attention to the Carolina moon.

This is not the first time I have found myself seeking her, turning to speak to her, expecting to hear her voice.  I have been home–away from our temporary home together–for barely two full days.  And, yet, I do not seem to be fully here.  I see her face when I look up from something I am doing then, realize she is not here; I am not there.  Despite my overall intelligence, and my general awareness of where I am, what I am and what I am not doing, I am surprised when I wake alone.  I am connected and disconnected.  It is strange for me to feel this way.

Normally, I am highly practical. I am a loving person, but not overly emotional.  And, I am a very adaptive person.  I am not prone, really, to pining.  I certainly am not inclined to nearly delusional, out-of-touch states.  I can usually feel whatever I feel, be practical and plugged in, and do what is in front of me.  I can go about my day with some degree of separation between tasks at hand and any feelings I have–or, for that matter, anything I might be mulling over or dealing with.  Until this week, I have been able to feel how I feel about Scin, about us, miss her [and her son], stay fairly focused and still be my normal practical, down-to-earth, cope-and-go-on kind of self.  This time, the leaving was harder.  Much harder.  My rather regular, caring but cavalier butch swagger never made it to the airport.  I did not find it in my luggage either.

Truth is, after I watched her walk toward the exit to leave, I went outside, lit a smoke and whimpered.  Well, more honestly, I cried openly–I was man-crying, but I was crying nonetheless.  The employee who was outside smoking moved away to give me some space.  I feel sure he thought I was a guy and gave me the room he would have wanted.  I could tell by the identifying look he gave me as he moved away.   It was male bonding at its sweetest.  The guy checking my ID at security noticed I looked a bit disconsolate and asked if I was OK.  I said I was fine, that I just did not want to be leaving.  He seemed to understand.  This was all very nice [much better than my trip up].  But it really did not help.

I felt like I was leaving behind something essential.  An arm, maybe.  Or, perhaps, a foot.  While I waited to board, Scin and I talked on the phone.  My heart broke with every moment of realization I was getting on another plane.  Again.  We reminded each other than in a few months there will be no more leavings.  I remind myself of this every day–several times a day.  And, I see her face.  Everywhere.  When something distracts my attention from what I am doing, I can see her as if she were there.

When I close my eyes, she is there.  If I concentrate, I can smell the scent of her all around me.  If I am very still, and close my eyes, I can feel the smooth skin of her shoulder as I slowly run my fingers down to her hand.  I have loved before in my life. Yet, I have never had this kind of love–this thing that merges time and space, that mingles past and present, that arouses all my senses without external stimulation; this thing that moves and grows as I do, that becomes more each day and makes of me more as well.  I am connected to what is here and what is there:  connected and disconnected.  Yet, still, I am more.  More present with those with whom I am in contact.  More calm under stress.  More thoughtful.  More sure of myself.  More willing to risk. [I actually submitted poetry this week.] I am more.

I sit in the presence of this beautiful moon and I wish I could show it to Scin.  I think of how like her it is.  Bright, but not so bright you feel small and lost in the light.  It illuminates, rather than burns you. It is a calm, warm and kind brightness that she shines.  Even when she tries to hide, she shines.  There is a subtle filtering of that light around her that casts a glow over everything.  I see myself in that light and I desire to be more. For myself, for her, for all that is around us and is important.  She is beautiful.  I want to turn to her and say these things. 

Since I was a child, I liked the night and the moon in particular.  Most of my life, when I needed to feel safe and connected, I prefered to be alone–to look into the sky, to watch the moon, be still and breathe in the universe around me.  Like the ground beneath me, rocks, streams, geodes, deer, rabbits, and [often] members of my family, the moon always made me feel part of a universe bigger than myself but somehow connected to me.  That made me feel safe.  It still does.  I never felt that kind of safety with any partner I have had.  Until Scin, that is.  Before, I tended to the safety and needs of others.  But I did not trust them really.  I was practical, took care of things, and myself–when I needed something, I looked within and looked at the night sky for comfort.

Now, I look into the sky and marvel at the moon just because.  I look into the vast beauty of it and I give thanks.  Like the moon, the ground beneath my feet, and geodes, Scin and the love we share make me feel part of something bigger than myself.  That makes me feel safe.  It makes of me more.  Scin is my earthly moon.  She reflects the love I freely give her without shame or covetousness.  I am Carolina clay made rusty silver in the light of all we share. She shines illuminating love and faith upon me.  It is, like the moon, real–tangible, observable, constant, healing…and, beautiful.  Her shining is safe upon the ruddy ground that is my heart.  I am safe in the white light arms she wraps around me.

NOTE:  This work is published here as proprietary and may not be reproduced, distributed, sold, or otherwise utilized outside the posting on this site without the express permission of the author; these works are the sole property of the author writing as Androgynonamous or DreadPirateRobert.

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8 Comments

  1. lescook said,

    I think you have a beautiful way with words. To truly be able to trust someone is an enormous gift and feeling safe with them, overwhelming. You give me hope.

    • androgynonamous said,

      Well said. I am glad you have hope. Also, I feel honored to be part of that with you and to have your support and encouragement. I had lost hope for a long time. Now, I have more than hope; I have faith in what exists and in what can exist between people who are open to it. Your time will come. And, from what I have seen, you deserve it. Thanks for being here.

  2. Scintillectual said,

    Darling Baby Boi, I can’t wait until the day that I am physically present with you in the light of that Carolina moon. I am truly honored by your love for me. You make me feel wholly safe and respected and help up higher than I deemed possible. Your love for me can be, admittedly, overwhelming at times. Simply because I have never experienced love like this before. As you said, sure, there was love…but not like this. This was a truly beautiful post and I thank you. I must find a way to be with you in two weeks. I cannot go from now until July without your arms around me and your love whispered in my ear. I miss you intensely and love you still more.

    Always and in all ways.

    • androgynonamous said,

      Sweet Scin, I too await that day. And, as I hope I have shown, I am most honored by your love for me and what we have, what we have been given. I miss you so. We will find a way, sugar, to do all that we need to and to spend time together. A way will be made for us if we do what we can do. I long for my arms around you, yours around me, and all the whispered things we both feel and speak. I love you. I look forward to talking to you later this morning. Work helps. But I miss you. Always and all ways, I love you.

  3. Holden said,

    An astounding piece of writing which perfectly describes how you’re feeling.

    When my wife and I met we lived at opposite ends of the country so this brings back lots of memories of those times. The thing that always amazed me was the shift in time, passing so slowly while we were apart but so quickly when we were together. I’m glad you’ll be together all the time soon, it is so well worth the wait. 🙂

    • androgynonamous said,

      Thank you so much. Your understanding helps. It is nice to know that you have been where we are and made it to the place you are now, the place to which we are working so hard to get settled. It increases my hopefulness. We appreciate, as well, your suppot. Thank you, too, for your encouragement regarding my writing. It means so much. I have great respect for your work as well. It is good to know you will be with us in this time.

  4. Blazer said,

    Beautiful, just beautiful.

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