“Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps. . . perhaps. . .love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.”
He makes me shine //
I’m not quite sure how to write this. One of my own – married. A new name. An allegiance. Unbreakable life-bonds.
Kelly and Megan and Lizzie were the girls who introduced the wonder of girlhood to this lagging, old puckered soul. Lizzie is earth and fire and wind and soul. Megan is grace and boldness and determinedly changing the world one paint-stroke at a time. Kelly is all charm and danger and romance and betwitchment. She opened up unabashed doors of femininity and the three of them quite possibly rescued my heart from utter bitterness and brittleness, holding on to hope without question and loving fiercely without restraint.
A few weeks ago, Kelly embarked on that nonreturnable voyage. There were tears. There was laughter. There were embraces and hands grabbing for each other like we were drowning. There were candles and lights. King beds and endless down. Girlish giggles. Anne Shirley and Lana mixed company. Silk dresses and fur purses. Hair curled in the humidity, smiles came freely. Shoes came off, the grass was our carpet. There were unending amounts of coffee, wine, beer, pie, cake – we feasted like the kings and queens of the countryside we all were. We utterly basked in one another’s presence, watched the fire-pit and the fireflies, passing a bottle of champagne around because who needs glasses? Stars and eyes bright, hands and feet ready to celebrate.
I can only show you. I can’t describe the depth of emotion, how the lights and darks of our souls laid exposed and ready for the knowing, how we freely loved and lived and didn’t regret.