And so it was that I was pulled to him, this lover. Pulled and pulled: moments on a bed; moments under trees and on beaches; moments on my porch: green plastic lawn chairs, rolling tobacco, and our knees converging in the utter spaciousness of cosmos.
We moved in together. I saw him as a mentor. A teacher. He helped me to health. The first lover, in fact, who brought me meals in bed. Made homemade chicken noodle soup and kept the kleenex boxes plentiful. Those things. Back then, during those dark days of illness, we’d put Leonard Cohen on repeat. Albums of melancholic holiness. Albums of blues and death and redemption: moments of vision. Albums beyond description.
Today, early Autumn, three years later, I’m planning to move out. I love my friend, I love the man who was my lover, but it’s getting close to leaving time.
Today, three years later, I look back, and see the path we took. It was a beautiful path.
How he taught me. How I taught him. The lack of linearity to the whole thing. The multi-dimensional flow of it. The rustle and churn. All those crazy notes and tunes.
Looking back, I see how messy it’s been. How incredibly lovely. How imperfect. How perfect.
I’m sad to go. But if I stay, it will just be on repeat: over and over and over again. Leonard Cohen, again and again. Truth be told, I’m pretty tired of Leonard.
So, I go. I move. I love. And I wish him well. Both of them.
If you like this blog, you might also like Anya’s book, Opening Love. Or, for a more intimate encounter, please contact Anya today to schedule your intuitive guidance or relationship coaching session.