(A new piece for Fragments of Fiction)
Can't remember the last time I signed into the good old Instant Messenger and there you were. I wondered if it was a sign or just coincidence.
Anne Stacey. There you were. A little picture of your smiling face flashed up at me and I smiled back. For a moment I just stopped and stared. Watched and wondered what to do. You told me to give you some space and I had done that. But the truth for both of us is/was that space is a funny term.
Throughout the years there have been a few brief moments where we felt that we needed some time away from each other. Moments of anger and or frustration. Moments of confusion when we tried to catch our breath and figure it all out. But throughout it all we always found that it was impossible to completely forget the existence of the other.
It is a hard thing to explain, but we always feel better when we allow the contact. And when we are separated intentionally or otherwise we have a tendency to seek the little things that connect us. There is a comfort in those things. We passed the point many years ago when we could truly say that we were all by ourselves. Now the connection is always there.
Most of the time it is a wonderful thing. Most of the time it is an incredible feeling to know that the missing piece to the puzzle is not just out there, but identified and recognizable.
Most of the time we find ourselves smiling and secure in the knowledge that our best friend is our greatest love and truly the star we follow in the dark night. But sometimes it is hard. Sometimes it is painful to accep that the person we wish most to be with is separated from us.
Sometimes we compensate for the pain and frustration by coming up with reasons why we are angry with the other. Sometimes we fuel the fire with imaginary hurts and slights and or make lists of all of the reasons why it cannot work. Sometimes we run from the truth because it is too painful to accept.
There are those who suggest that sometimes love isn't enough. There are those who say that the best thing you can do is just accept this and move on. But you know that I have never been one to just accept these things. I push and pull. I tug and shove and bang and knock. Tell me no and watch me prove you wrong.
Ok, so not everything is possible. I can't fly and I can't stop time. But if it was possible to do so than you know that I would. If it was possible to alter the good old space-time continuum for my Anne Stacey I would. But even though I cannot it doesn't mean that the future is an impossibility.
I don't allow myself to be constrained by purely linear thinking. I don't live based upon what can't happen, but upon what can and what could be. I am not Don Quixote attacking windmills, but if I did it is a certainty that the windmill would fall.
That is the power of the certainty of a deep and mature love. It fuels a fire that burns bright and deep. It powers an engine that has the strength to push through slings and arrows. I suppose that we could continue this line and ride some sort of cliche filled story where I woo you by using math and science. You know, talk about how there is a new element to add to the 106 in the periodic table. Or compose some sort of word problem that illustrated in math terms the proof of our love.
We'll save that for a different day. Instead we'll circle back to the moment that inspired the note. The completely unexpected appearance of your picture in my instant messenger box. It caught me off guard. I was unprepared to see your smile and the sparkle in your eyes. It was a pleasant surprise and I am sure that you'd be pleased to know that after all this time the flames inside are still smoldering. It wouldn't take much to start a full blown fire.
But I refused to give into the urge to contact you. I refused because you asked for space and I intend to give it. Besides the hopeless romantic that lives inside believes that something will happen. There will be a moment, an incident, a something that makes you reach out to me and ask me to help. And that is key.
That moment is going to be part of a number of events that help everything fall into place. It is the keystone in the arch. Or maybe it is just the fantasy and burning desire of a dreamer who believes that our potential doesn't have to go unrealized.
I can say one thing without hesitation. Everyone should experience the kind of love where a thought and a smile provides a charge that makes your entire body tingle. A charge that makes you close your eyes and bathe in the thoughts and memories of what was and what will be. The memory of your scent is intoxicating.
More than this I dare not say or write.
"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." — Groucho Marx
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