Following You...

Just like that...

  

I walked into the club called Night Moves, strolled up to him and poured  the cluster of beer bottle caps from my trembling, damp, now tin scented, cupped hands into his waiting palms.

"For your collection", I said, as if those useless tokens were a prize.

He smiled at me.

By the end of the night I was wearing his John Deere cap as we listened to the music play, standing still, our shoulders brushing as we breathed in and out, side by side, smiling.

... and we were a couple for a long time to come, years and years.

His friends, otherwise known as "The Band", were now mine 

and this, one of the songs they sang that night, became our song.

I was fifteen and he was my first love and so were they, The Band.

They say you never get over your first love and I can understand why.

Who would want to?

The other day my friend Laura told me she thought my son was in fact my true soulmate.

I think maybe she's right.

This makes me realize that I am luckier in love then I considered myself to be.

I had a first love who came with his own live music and I have a soulmate.

Lucky me.

RIP Pag. 

It will be my great pleasure to remember you always just as you were then.

  

I will stay with you... will you stay with me

my soulmate & I

Flying lessons...

There once was a man who taught me to fly.

Sometimes hearing bad news encourages us to seek the good news...

I was embarrassed in ways when I was a little girl; Catholic, small town, big family, correction - big divorced family.

The divorce-ed-ness sometimes caused me to feel a bit like a sore thumb, just kind of sticking out - sometimes.

I admire my mother.  I admire her for being true to herself and to God and to her morals and I was a firsthand witness to her dignity, strength and her love.

One of the best things my mother ever did for me growing up was, allow me to love my father with all my heart, and I do, still, always, always, always, without end.

But this is about my other father,

My step-father.

The man who taught me to fly...

At first I liked him; tan legged, Italian, tennis playing, house in the county owning, retired fellow...

but eventually I decided that it might just be best for me if he were to disappear, fly away, find someone else's mother to fall for.

I was afraid you see, afraid to give up all my mother's love and attention, after having it solely for my siblings and I for the better part of our lives.

My mother remarried when I was in my early 20's.

They took off into a life that was almost too good to be true, like something out of a movie, around the world they went...

and I let her go

They say when you love something, let it go and if it comes back to you, it's really yours.

THEY came back for me.

I don't know where in my life I acquired the idea that there were limits I should not attempt to surpass, but it was him who forced me to push beyond them.

He taught me to sail...

 Slip knots, galley cooking, tighten the jib, Joy dish soap shampoos hair in the salt water when there simply is no more shower, wait out the storm, know when to stay put, know when to let out the sail.  There is no better way to watch for shooting stars then night on the ocean, all that and more, more, more.

When you're sailing on the sea, it feels like flying.

He retaught me to ski...

Lessons, lessons, lessons, break old, bad habits, sing to yourself as you navigate down, "my big toe leads me here, my other big toe leads me here..."

No mountain is too high nor too icy, bend your knees, never forget the basics, smile when you go, all that and about a thousand other things.

When you're ascending on the lift, it feels like flying.

He got me comfortable being uncomfortable so that I would grow to be self-reliant.

He made me brave.

He made my mother very happy and gave her a life I would have wanted her to have all along, if I hadn't been kind of selfish when it came to her.

In a small bit of tough news today, I returned to the truly good news...

and here it is,

I have a second father and I love him, all the way to the moon and back.

After all, he taught me to fly.

 Pico, Vermont