One day early last summer, as I was resting on my laurels, actually enjoying the fruits of my spring labors – landscape renovation, barn and yard cleaning and restoration, garden planting – after purchasing paint colors for my interior walls and a fire pit for my evening enjoyment and my interior soul, it occurred to me that I might actually like to stay here…here in my yard and my house and my town. I was enjoying my post-Damien freedom and solitude as much as I was enjoying the night sky and the flickering fireflies.
Then a love song began to play on my $1.00 lime-green boom box. I couldn’t bear to listen to it because I couldn’t conceive of the idea of ever being with a man again. The thought of falling in love was actually nauseating to me.
Then I met Frank. Love songs took on a new meaning and rekindled feelings in me that had long ago been buried under the harshness of my reality. Then Frank left. I wasn’t in love with Frank, but my heart had been awakened to the idea – the possibility – of love.
Another evening by the fire… The solitude and silence were suddenly uncomfortable, no longer welcome. And the love songs became unbearable again, this time because I had no one to share them with, no one with whom to fall in love. I knew – suddenly – that that was what I wanted but I also knew, without a doubt, that even if it were possible – even it were possible for me (a concept I’d given up on long ago) – it could not happen in this town.
Enter Michael. Destination: Detroit. You all know how that turned out.
Life gets so twisted sometimes. How do I tell you what happened next without making myself sound like I’ve gone completely off the deep end?
His name is Scott. And if it weren’t for him, I would have gone completely off the deep end.
There are a lot of things I could tell you about Scott. I could tell you about all the yearnings of mine that he satisfies without my even asking. I could tell you he treats me like a queen. I could tell you that he has done more for me – emotionally and practically – than Damien did in 14 years or that Frank did in 6 weeks. He has done more for me than what I believe Michael would have been willing or capable of doing for me.
Scott caught me as I was falling. And I met him in my own back yard. Literally.
I could tell you that he’s been looking for the same thing as I’ve been looking for, and for nearly as long. Forever. I could tell you he loves me. And that I love him.
All of those things are true. But I won’t tell you that.
What I will tell you is that I will be leaving him behind. It will be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. (And there have been SO many!)
That’s how strong I’ve become.