this, rising from a dream, recorded in semi-conscious stupor. i pondered actually setting it here for a couple of days. in the end, decided ‘may as well’.
i was sitting by a stream, or perhaps a river. looking out over the water. someone approached from behind me. i could hear very soft movements and the pressure of the wind and air around me changed, indicating presence.
without looking, i began to speak and this was what i said…
you know… i still think of you. after all this time. but not the way you think i do. of course, i don’t think i ever thought about you the way you think i do.
i’ve learned so much over this last year. and so much of it, i’ve learned because of you. also, not the way you would think.
but there’s a lesson in that. many lessons, actually. i don’t suppose there is enough time for me to try and explain them all.
i still believe in you. which is why i’m even speaking.
i know that there are a lot of things that hurt you during the time that we related to one another. and i know that you know that you were not alone in that hurting.
i also know that every bit of it was necessary… for you, for me, and for anyone else it in any way touched. sometimes it seems regrettable that so many of the lessons that we really need to learn require us to hurt… to suffer.
but of course it’s only because we’re so stubborn, isn’t it?
it took me quite a while to work through my own ego and pride in relation to you. and i suppose i’ll never know if you actually started, let alone finished your own work in those areas in relation to me.
but it doesn’t matter… to know.
i am thankful to have had the experience of you. and i am also thankful that your experience of me was not one that impeded you, kept you from where you are now. that, in fact, it was one of many things that helped you get there.
i meant what i said. i meant everything i said. even though absolutely none of it makes any difference or matters… and the only power any of it ever had was the power that you gave it, i gave it, others gave it.
i suppose it’s not appropriate to say this… but i still feel you. and there are times that i know very clearly that you are thinking about me.
and in those moments when i feel it, i still smile and, believe it or not, i will probably always smile to think of you.
i…. i am sorry that our lessons could not be more enjoyable. and i hope that next time… whenever that is, we’ll do better.
and i promise, no matter when that may be, i will remember, and i will try harder.
may you find more than you hope, less than you fear, and all that you need.
be well. more than anything, despite everything, i just wish you well.
there was no change, no sound of movement, no shifting in the air, but i knew without looking that there was also no presence. i reached out and down, and on the ground at my feet was a small pebble…. i picked it up and looked at it.
it was silver, almost like hematite. striated with a cloudy white, it looked like it had been spun of star stuff. there were flecks of amber that glowed warm scattered through it. it was smooth, no sharp edges. just slick and warm and lightly weighted in my hand.
i held it up to the light and realized that i could see through it. that, for all its color and shimmer and presence, it was utterly translucent. i set it close to my eye, closing the right to peer through it with the left.
through it, i could see the waters… and across them, the shore. an oddity of the light, i’m sure, but they looked white. somberly, i took the pebble away and looked across to the far shore… verifying for myself that the sands there were, in fact, just dirt. clay. muddy and striped as such things are…
but i sat there a time, raising the pebble to look through it and see those white shores, and quietly listening to the water, rushing by with whispers and burblings that might have been words, only i wasn’t paying attention.
i realized the words, all the words, they were meaningless. and i realized the reason i couldn’t see white shores was simply because i had spent so much time looking at rather than through.
the wind lifted a bit as that thought crossed my mind. ruffled my hair like a hand. and i wept. mostly for the nature of blindness. i sat there, on the ground, and rocked for a time, making tiny puddles of salt. the pebble i returned to the ground. as soon as it met the earth, it vanished, sinking in as if a raindrop.
i looked across the river once more, through the veil of tears… for they were still white. and i blinked the tears away, scrubbed them away, and looked again, and they were still white. and it was then i understood… they had always been white. the veil was my own.