it was for me.

thank God for love like this.

it has come in, it has come alongside.
like a tide it comes.

today i am moved by the words of a friend i have met but do not know. having grasped his hand, i felt his soul surging through his veins and knew i could look at him and trust what i saw. small but significant details like this mean so much to me now. you cannot always trust what you see or experience about someone. i am willing to trust (perhaps too willing). when someone honors that willingness, treats it with kindness, i can truly thrive in his presence.

i decided two days ago, truly on a whim, that i was going to take myself out for dinner. i had to be somewhere, so there was a finite amount of time, which seemed safe for a first attempt. i went home from work and carefully chose an outfit instead of throwing on yoga pants and a hoodie. i slipped my feet into good shoes. i brushed my hair and put on jewelry. it wasn't for anyone in particular or even for anyone who might see me; it was for me. i'm learning to appreciate my own beauty as much, if not more, than i might hope for someone else to appreciate it.

the shoes of she

on the way out the door i grabbed my copy of Vogue. i'm the kind of girl who likes a little couture with my burrito and salsa.

it's hard to describe how triumph can swell with such a strong current and go unnoticed . . . but i guess that's exactly what it is, an invisible strengthening structure that holds everything up and, perhaps in its most poignant instances, draws no attention to itself. i felt no fear or loneliness striking out on this errand, though i've never deliberately gone out to eat by myself. it was never something i thought to do and never something i desired. and now, stripped of the love and belonging i've grown accustomed to, shouldn't i feel exposed and fragile going out alone?

maybe so, but
i did not.

and the interesting thing about being alone is that i was newly aware of how many other people were in the restaurant by themselves --- the working mother in the lilac jacket, the bald man in the navy north face, the older woman with too-young spiky red hair. i noticed them quietly while they openly stared at me. were they distracted by my bold lips? the silver chain hanging from my neck? my dramatic coat? the confidence falling from my shoulders that bewildered even me?

Beyonce in Vogue

food gotten and Vogue opened, i set my cell phone alarm so i wouldn't be late to my meeting. not two minutes had passed when the phone buzzed --- a text message from an old friend who, in my much younger days, held much of my attention for a period of time. i know it's random, he said. but there's this concert tonight and i'm leaving in twenty minutes...

and i was struck with the bittersweet irony --- that as soon as i'm okay being alone, and not just okay but really good with it, something breaks through. an opportunity arises. a volley of replies ensued and i smiled to myself. i read and i ate. i buttoned my coat. it was time.

it is time
and indeed there will be time . . .

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

[ from the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock ]