What Was Meant for Me?
I've been thinking about you all day
he says brightly, warmly in an unexpected phone call.
Just returned from my Spring semester in seminary,
my heart is unfolding with possibility.
Phone to my ear, I take in this affection
my bare feet
planted in vintage carpet,
gaze zeroed-in on a sunlit oak dresser. Outside the window the roses are surely blooming in my grandmother's garden. I am home.
This is a trusted friend. His dynamic nature is his signature
and should be matched.
A little tension rises but I reason it away undetected.
Come by and catch up?
Show him Reiki. Let him try it on me.
That's not exactly how it works but after all
we don't prescribe things.
We are open.
We're unconventional. He's clergy so of course he’ll appreciate
a different take with
the laying on of hands.
The world is a good place. People love me. I adore this guy. He's like an older brother. I love our community.
Yes, sounds great!
When he asks for a turn to let him try
I'm thinking,
sure this will be fine.
He asks if I'm comfortable, then
if it's ok to do this, demonstrating: slide his hands under my jeans for one of the energy points.
I say no, I don't think so
drawing away
Now, looking back, the hubris it takes to go in again. The experience it must take.
He asks again. He knows me. He knows confrontation is not easy. He knows I struggled to get out the first no.
By now, somewhere under the surface my mind has already done the calculations of loss. Of this beautiful friendship and the community and the sunny day and the roses and the grandparents’ United Methodist Camelot: The Next Generation. I’m reframing those hands in my head. They aren't so bad. And he can feel my longing for connection. And he's not giving up.
But I am. And I will again and again.
Maybe this was meant for me.
Image: [“Poetry is my sword and my kiss” accompanied by a monochrome/pop blue, fuchsia, magenta and gold image of Kali.”]
I hear you and hold this with you.