Take a boat with me.
I don’t know how to steer. No, I don’t know sails. Fine, let’s take the oars.
But just you and me. Promise?
I’ll wear the dress I wanted to wear the first day you hugged me.
You can wear whatever you like.
You’ll still be the most beautiful thing to look at on the water.
I’ll leave my hair down so you can tuck it behind my ear when it gets messy.
It’s so long now already!
Here, take an oar. I can’t paddle forward without your help.
I don’t care what direction.
Let’s just paddle into the water, away from the land, away from the shore.
Away from what’s sure.
Are we there yet? You ask.
There is no there, remember?
No expectation. No destination.
But we can rest here. I like it here.
You see the shore? Do you see the land? Do you see the trees?
No?
Good. Neither do I.
Let’s sit together now.
Your head leans on mine.
I smell you.
Lovely.
Love me.
Love you.
Love.
Now, I wanted to say sorry.
Because I did have any expectation.
I did have a destination.
I wanted to show you.
Before we reached the shore again.
Before we stepped off.
Before they asked us where we had paddled to.
Before they told us that land was safer.
Now, I want to show you anyway.
Close your eyes.
Not to pray.
Not to save us.
But for me to show you.
Hold my hand.
Breath in.
Breath out.
One more time.
Feel the air, the crisp fresh air over the water.
In your chest, in your stomach, filling your belly button.
Breath out.
Now I’m going to show you.
Remember your eyes?
Open them.
It’s dark.
See those things floating in the sky?
See them lighting up the night?
The fire inside of them burns for the moment.
No expectation. Who knows where they will float to.
But we lit those damned lanterns anyway.
Can I touch your chin?
Can I feel the stubble?
I always wanted to kiss you with your beard.
Feel my dress. It’s too dark outside to see.
Still, you can smell the color.
Mint green.
Now close your eyes.
I’ve showed you now.
Open your eyes.
You see the shore? Do you see the land? Do you see the trees?
…
Yes?
Good.
Land is safer anyway.
I wrote the above many, many years ago. I had fallen hard for a man in a very short amount of time. We were still together, and I can’t speak for him, but I still was quite smitten at the time of writing this…But I had already known I had lost him. That I would lose him in the end. He had told me who I was, what I am, what I believed in was enough. But I realized, perhaps even before he did, that he was lying. To himself and to me.
I was hopeless, and I was romantic so I stayed the course though in my bones I knew it was over. He ended up asking for me to change who I was to make it work. And I actually considered this seriously for 48 hours, the time he gave me to make my decision. With a broken heart, I told him I couldn’t change who I was. And we parted ways.
It was the hardest break up I had ever had. It was the time the world lost color for me. I wrote pages and pages about the pain and loneliness I felt. It was a grief and sorrow that was felt in very dark ways. I couldn’t even think about going on a date for at least two years. And well within that time, he had already found someone, and they had been married.
Oddly, it was the wildness in me that he claimed to adore that essentially led to our parting ways.
…And it would be a metaphorical jungle that I would write about when I described first meeting my now husband David. It was about feeling like someone was peeling back the layers to my core, discovering a jungle, and not being afraid of the wildness that came with it. I’ll try to dig that post up if I can find it soon. I haven’t had luck yet.
Thanks for reading,
Jade
Hey, Jade! Amazing post as usual! This one hits home and hits hard. I also know how it feels to be someone's canvas or piece of clay to be molded into something else. I've always felt that one of the most beautiful things you can say to someone, and have them say to you is, "I love you because of who you are, not despite it." 😊