yobech505

It Was a Day Like…

Like any other day, this day was, unlike any other day. Or we can make it not about a portion of measured time.  Would it direct itself  to a section of the continuum where measurable elements were a factor of no great perpetuity? 

This is as I am requesting, oh great connector.

Where did she originate?  Who was the postmaster who sent her to the same spot I was occupying in my wannabe wishes?  How did anything know I would be there at the same time she was, taking up physical space in closeness, but emotional space internally.  What witchy watch over determined that this was the location, much more than just a probability but a defining moment where one pole touches the other and the lights flicker before they illuminate completely?

It’s a lot more than just this untempted ‘me’ who occupied the indicated perimeter.  We were both there, at the same un-monumental moment that instantly changed to a level of majorly significant two into one.  And where do the clergyists come up with ‘let no man put asunder’?  If the great spirit joined us, ain’t no man has the power, ability or know how to split that back into pairs.  We’re one.  No three dot journalism here.

There is a complete lack of further want and the connectivity eliminates the possibility and desire for what is way past the developmental stage, morphing itself into a completed unit.  No need for anything more than continued exploration of togetherness and the clear path of one entity observing the beauty of the human world and the treasures of the ‘in depth’ part so many do not comprehend, which they show us by throwing the loco label into that which we internally develop into being unphased by.

So it is kept in silent mode, not as an ‘us’ sees or uses it but as the ‘they’ might perceive. That untelling is only for them, not us.  We revel in the whispers we share, the soft voices we interconnect with and the touch that  is more than anything a physical body can conjure.  

That day, the topic of this whole attempt at expressing my literature abilities, still appears as unreal as the grasping of a pin feather on an accelerating humming bird. 

This, as is naturally explained, is, in explanatory terms, the ‘why’ factor.  And that, is the whole reason for the unlikeness.  Aloof to the hypnotized populace, but explained only by those who experience it or with whom the carriers trust, it all connects.  She is never far from the insides of my undefinable self, able to touch the parts of our spirit that impacts who I am as it refers to our ‘us’.

We are pushed, shoved and jammed into a common unity, and despite the verbiage of these definitive words, we do this in an unfettered, willing manner, not unafraid but unprepared until we get to the feeling this is the right thing to experience.  From then, on, it is a growth purposed event,  set up by a source that far excels past the human ability to use or apply.  I know why she’s here.  So, why are we?   Temporarily hidden from the ease of surface senses, it all connects now.

Gotta love a daughter who has the canny ability to screen, and assumes the role her father had when she was younger.  Who I date has to pass muster.  And in her gentle way, she can be a heavier hand than I ever had any desire to be.

If you don’t cut it, you ain’t going out with my Dad.  Exclamation point taken!

I don’t know what criteria she uses to determine who is my latest social dating intent.  But if you were to ask me, as an honest inquiry, she’s pretty much poking her finger right on the dot.  She knows her dad.  Sometimes, she emphasizes a blessing. She might be polite in her critique, otherwise, it’s a flat out ‘No!’  The flaw in it all is getting me to listen to her, then follow up on what she is planting, often repetitively, in my sometimes silly brain.

Like the time I discontinued a brief relationship after I told the passing soon partner, “My daughter doesn’t think we’re right together’.  That went over like a turd in the clam chowder.   The soon to be distanced connection sounded more like a drunk sailor fighting a marine after that let down.  I was told I was rude, mean and self centered. Numerous profanity peppered the entire response.  And I’m pretty assuredly convinced she thought I was doing this on my own.  But it really was my daughter’s idea.  And the fledgling relationship had only existed for about three weeks.  Never led anyone on.  Honest.  

I spent the next fortnight trying to rethink how I might have ended the whole glob of a doomed relationship. There had to have been a more appealing way to let someone off the elevator.   But I was pretty sure my female offspring knew the two party system in this case wouldn’t work.  Still, she was initially helpless in instructing me how I could have concluded the breaking off a little more tactfully.  I told her what transpired.  She never apologized.  She never will.  

She has backed off a bit.  I took time to raise my sons and didn’t date much.  Saw old acquaintances and spent friendship time with the past memories who were different now.  Not interested in much more than that.  Giving her a break I suppose.  But she knows.  If I mention someone, she can analyze that potential prom date just by the way I say the name.  Then she asks the right questions, and poof!  Relegated to no more than friendship or “Dad, go for it

I don’t know if, in the cases she manages to see into, if she’s right or wrong, but if someone were to tell me to play the odds on it, I would always go with who she is and what she is.  Don’t make me take sides.  You’ll lose.  

Of course, it has to be an addendum, a couple of times she called it in a potential squeeze’s favor.  She was right. She still chastises me for one conked out ‘the two of you’ that she hoped would be.  Circumstances didn’t allow the relationship to bloom with flowers continuing to brighten the branches, but she wished it could have worked out.  “She’d be good for you, Dad.”  I was sad when it all turned away.  She felt my hurt.  

I know she wishes relationship nirvana on me.  Her mother will probably always be her deepest wish, to which I am only guessing.  It’s rarely said in words.  I just sense she wishes us both happiness, and if it’s together or in different channels of life, she knows which persons would work.  

I don’t look.  I wait.  If someone comes along who feels, creates and in conjunction with me, builds the connection, her heart will bless it.  If her daughterly instincts tell her to put the kibosh on it, I am of the positive inclination she will, once again, not apologize for my lack of tact  if I am considered rude in the termination of the relationship.

Figuring out why one bothers to find another place to live is simply, in definition, stress making pattern description.  It just ain’t easy and one always has a good excusable answer for why the move was implemented.  

I just done it.  Packed the house, the associated collectables and the dogs.  Hence the title.  

Not just next door either.  Across the continent, almost, from snowy winter to blazing hot summer.  With the dogs, both who love the snowy winter and have places to hang out where I existed and habitated (sic), it was a big ‘huh?’.  And with that criteria, I now have to deal with the acquiring of a location for the canines when I do my family visitations always where no furry poop bag fillers are permitted to stick around.

Ah, but the Great Cactus came to my rescue.  And this goes back to my eighth year on this oblique spheroid we inhabit.  

I got engaged.  With an honest to god ring I got from a gum machine. Really. ( I wasn’t about to keep a girlie ring!) Not that, at the time, either of us had any clue as to what being engaged was, or knew we were in that category of relationships.  The small town we lived in didn’t care or even know.  So, really, neither did we.

After a couple of years of hanging out, we both moved to different abodes in different communities.  Interestingly enough, we and our families also lived within a few kilometers of each other at least three times over the next few decades or more.  Probably a lot of ‘in passing’ over that set of partial centuries, in unknowing recognition. I really doubt we would have been familiar to the other anyway.  Married others, raised our families, then did what people do as they add years to their experiences..  

It’s that ‘online’ thing.  I observed a familiar name on a common site, and, in as casual a manner as possible, asked if that person was the person who I knew in person.  Alas and much to no one’s chagrin, I’m sure,  it was.  And she has moved only a couple of hours away from where I relocated my storage units of things I still don’t use. 

  Here’s the groovy part.  She likes my dogs.  And, as stingy with their tail wagging as they are, they like her.  So, after catching up, spending hours on electronic devices reminiscing and stopping by to say ‘bonjour’ in English of course, a few times, I have my dog sitter.  And the exchange is mutual as her dog, who doesn’t particularly like anyone, seems to be okay with my dogs as she travels back to the previous neighborhoods.  

So the dogs are happy and they have a new friend.  I am in communication with an old friend.  We chuckle when we tell stories, often embellished, about the small town we grew up in and how much it has altered its appearance and population over the decades since we moved away.  We both agree, it was better back then.

Never cancelled the engagement.  In sincere confidence, the ring disappeared due to natural causes. The emotional connection belongs to the dogs, however.  Hell, the last time I stopped to pick them up they didn’t want to go with me. They’d still be there if I hadn’t shoved the issue into my car with the promising aroma of tasty treats.  

Finding friends is a thankful result of the internet.  Finding friends who’ll dog sit my pooches while I galavant across the countryside is one of the great caveats of the computer age.  

Now, back to the dogs.  They just bark, sleep and do doggie things, whatever those are.  Not sure they care which place they use to leave their sculptured piles.

Can’t tattle on others.  Only vouch for who I am and who my friends really are.  This one involves my Junior High School and first year of high school ‘steady’, that term we used back in those days.  The conversation was adult and I thought to myself, I am much more mature now.  That was decades ago. Truth telling,  I’m probably only partly more mature.

We’ve been in touch, friends since, well, decades.  We’ve never really ‘dated’ since those olden days as every time she was single, I was married and vice versa.  Not that it would have melded into something, but who the hell knows. We’re still close, trade relationship gab with one another and talk pretty fearlessly.  

It was our most recent encounter, as we met at the wind brushed deck where the barista provided beverage at our favorite yuppie gathering place, allowing this inquisitive event to take the auspices of shape.

“So, you sound serious.”  It was more a question than a statement.  “At least that’s what I’m hearing from you.”  She settled a little in the chair.  Obviously, she was patient.

I took a breath. “You managed to figure that out?” I chuckled a short one. “Wow. I’m impressed. Like, Duh?”

“So if my hubby runs off with a 25 year old Ukranian woman and leaves me, you’re saying you won’t be available?” She delivered the question with her arms folded across her chest.

I was ready.  “For you or the Ukrainian woman?”

“Very funny.  What if she doesn’t speak any English?”  She waited for a response and, still crossing her arms, tapped a foot.  I didn’t say anything.  Continuing, “What is it about her?  More than you’ve already told me?”

“I could tell you but she’s top secret. I’d have to kill you.” I knew by her look she was aware I was pushing used humor. “I don’t know how to fully identify it, but it’s special. Like having your heart touched from the inside.”

“Oh.”  I’m pretty sure she didn’t quite know what to say so I gave her a moment. “Don’t know that I’ve ever experienced that.  May have alluded to it when we were in high school but, back then, it was all weird.”  She laughed as she shook her head.

This was my cue, but I didn’t want to say too much.  I wasn’t sure she would comprehend what I was getting at.  Not weird.  “Different.  That’s about all I can say.  And new, at least to me.  Around her, it’s like we’re ‘in touch’, we feel and understand each other.  Sort of.”  That last comment was to soften the explanation category without the risk of her practical and rational side triggering further conversation aimed at how crazy I was.

She sensed my tension.  “You know I love you.  My only concern is, does she fit?  Is she cool with you, and the opposite, are you in synch with her?” 

“It certainly feels like it.”  She dropped her arms, picked up her coffee, holding the cup to her lips while she waited for me to continue.  “I love you too.  But yes.  Add to that, we seem to really enjoy the same things.”  

“Okay.”  There was a touch of a math teacher in her voice.  “Here’s the question.”  She planted her eyes towards my face.  “Do  you love her?”

“I thought that was pretty obvious, given our many conversations.”  My tone was level, delivered to an equal. 

“Given.”  Her voice was smiling.  “Now, answer this.”  The pause was longer.  So was the stare.  “Are you IN love with her?”

“I don’t know.”  My voice softened.  “But I want to be.”