The Story of Me
2002-02-19 13:28:42 (UTC)

I Got Too Much Stuff...

...I can't explain the likes of me.... Cuz there's this one
particular harbor so far but yet so near where I see the
days as they fade away... and finally disappear.

His name was Trade. Practically perfect in every way. We
ate lunch at the same place every day, sat in the same place
and I had never noticed him before. But he had noticed me.
He sat quietly across the room, watching me while I ate.
Some days I laughed with friends. Other days I was somber
and alone, but I never felt alone. Finally it happened that
we left at the same time. He held the door for me and I saw
him for the first time as the man he really was. Gentle and
compassionate, quietly mysterious. Existing just to please
me. It all came to light in that first moment when I looked
into his eyes to say thank you. His smile was small but
genuine. I left the restraunt feeling as though my life had
been changed. I went about the rest of my day with his name
in the front of my mind and a purpose to my step. The next
day I returned for lunch, more looking for him than out of
habit. Once through the doors of the vestibule my eyes
scanned the room with purpose for the first time since I had
started frequenting this place. My heart beamed when I
spotted him there in the corner, and of course, he was
already looking at me. I lowered my lashes with a content
grin, happy to have been seen, and went about my business.
I ordered my lunch and made my way to my booth, aware of his
eyes on me with every step I took. I sat, and sighed as if
to say, "This is ridiculous. Just look his way and say
hello." And when I did, he was distracted, looking the way
of the bus-boy, laughing almost to himself and sipping his
Coke. In that moment he seemed so young, so fragile, and
capable of limitless love. He radiated devotion and passion
and splendor, invisible to the other patrons, but comsuming
me with every breath I took. His eyes cast a glance in my
direction as if it were second nature. He looked back when
he saw me watching him, took a gentle hold of his Coke and
stood. I almost wet myself. It had all seemed so casual
and unimportant and in an instant it changed as he made his
way to my table. When he approached me, I felt as if I was
in the presence of an angel of God, lucky to be alive, and
feeling loved and treasured in a place so deep within me it
almost hurt. He sat and we talked and laughed. Like old
friends, it was disturbingly intimate, but so comfortable it
was like we had been doing this for years. I felt
surrounded by this wind circling violently, but in the
middle was peace and calm. When he kissed me, I cried for
all that I had lost and everything I was gaining. It
was.... magic. Then, the noise came upon my ears, pressing
and unable to ignore it. When I awoke, I was holding my
husband's hand. I realized that all the things I had felt
and seen and cried for and wished for in my sleep was right
beside me. Trade was the side of my husband that I overlook
in the rush of life. A constant force, loving me, needing
me, and guiding me with the gentle touch of his hand. An
angel, and he was holding my hand.

It was dark and I was groggy, but the moment stayed with me.
The knock on the door came and I had not yet turned on a
light. My niece and nephew had arrived for daycare and I
was dead on my feet. But I managed to make my way to the
office after turning on the cartoons to write this down.
That dream was like another valuable lesson in life I had to
make sure I understood.... and I do.