Recalling the barren trees of Connecticut. An occasional yellow leaf dourly lingering; the next rain, frost or wind to take.
In those years before my enslavement to mom and dad, their business affairs, I’d be recently returned from heaven, the haven of my maternal grandmother’s love, near always unconditional save for the time I fell off the pew back during the Wednesday night, bug light, prayer meeting. At Ripley Methodist. Dim bulbs hung by skinny snakes dangling from the dark above.
She mouthed the letters forming: “M U R D E R” -- followed by an oval -- “U” No exclamatory mark required. I pinned by shock upon the church floor looking to heaven for help. Afterwards during the walk back, three blocks, in the dark I danced chanting; “Oh Mama Lu, I love you” over and overs circling her steady march. Upon entry into the dark of her kitchen our only ingress she embraced me laughing and I held in reprieve and a kiss.
Seemingly so long ago, yet reprise in my lust filled eyes for another woman; imagining sanctuary. Never held for long enough or adequately to ever be safe. Come hither go away. Or stony silence. No affirmations or acknowledgment. Friends no benefits. You’d think I’d have learned by now there is no room for me anywhere accept in my cave with Annie.
Love it seemed was conditional at best political in the sense of reality pragmatic and I held captive beneath a steel submarine net staked in rock. I often in retrospect wonder was it me or her? Who destroyed the bond so fragile. In loving God, who is more responsive than anyone I’ve ever known, why would I need a woman? If God loves me and knowing this experientially why I see the embrace of another woman is perhaps, just to know the world safe for love? In community and communion. We know no value until it is lost. Irrevocable.
I called her this afternoon asking after her well being wondering had she made the change and accepted the implied or hopeful prospects? Yes! Two Thousand miles east and northerly in Vermont where I once skied Jay Peak. Our ‘affair’ centered around two who were near death. One is gone the leaving day left behind my career besmirched by administrative snarl. The other remains very much alive fearful that she will be expelled for the same reasons. Alive. And attempting to reconstruct that which was taken away from her so that she could die in peace.
It was wonderful. She who knew my burning passions and compassion so formed around the halls and patients we’ve both abandoned. Not so much by choice, but merely that there is a breaking point. Both had gone far beyond the point of no return without protest or violence until there was no reason to stay masochist.
Oddly I’ve wandered into the explosive point why I run away and/or otherwise would “Go Postal” flipping out and destroying indiscriminately anyone or thing in my path: going berserk, running amok. Such love sought and found freely given comes only from God.
In a time and culture of consumerism everything and everyone one is a commodity. I lost the one woman who thought and taught me to be who I am now. But in that love I remain since it is love that matters not it’s source save for God. Her providence lingers still driving me to beat the keys . . . a i above all know the fabulous life i’ve lived and am well blest in that and that is enough. To fill the long lingering nights unto death this winter promises alone.
To close. I found in a thrift shop a Moon mounted on a pedestal with a votive socket behind it. Thinking of Randy’s, Merton’s and my maternal grandfather's death anniversary: 10 December I will burn the candle and weep for joy this next, perhaps last, Christmas knowing the gift of God inherent in the celebration--Christ Mass--birth and the coming death then resurrection sure.
I may never write as well as those I read, especially Annie Dillard. But oh Dear Lord do I enjoy her and knowing that I too walk the same planet for now.
Be well, if not. please invite me to walk with you for a time together; both getting better.
121103 18:43 MDT arriving fall
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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