Monday, October 19, 2015

Magic Roundabout

Someone said to me once, that I was the least bitter person they knew, though I had every right to be bitter. I was terribly moved by that, and think of it sometimes, when my cynicism realism seems to be foremost. 

Then someone happened to walk right into my life at the most ridiculous time. Pulling me gently upwards and outwards, from possibly one of the worst few weeks I've ever had. After a relatively traumatic work event coupled with a couple of  shocking life events, all my courage left me, slowly seeping away like water from a rock pool on a hot day, bits of me were gasping for air. One day, I woke and found I could not get out of bed. Even more curious, I cried quite a lot, my skin started to break away and left huge welts on my fingers and hands. I felt like I had been burned. 

After a string of events that could so easily have not happened brought us to the same space, Dougal* arrived, and I feel - well. If I was religious (which I am most certainly not - flim-flam hogwash) I would be sat inside my local church, on my knees giving thanks. Every.damned.day.

D* is shot through with the most gentle nature I have ever experienced being party to. Infused with kindness, he is pure of heart, to the point of being Mother Teresa's older, kinder spiritual twin.

I gush. I gush more. 

He is funny... teasingly sharp, and clever. His life until now reads like a novel of quirky adventure, and great tragedy. Each bit of it, makes me want to shelter him with my arms. Conversely, he holds me to his side, putting my head in the gap between his chin and shoulder, and tells me that I'm safe now. 

He is slow to smile, his handsome face is impassive, often. When he laughs at something I say, I want to punch the air with victory. His eyes smile when he looks at me. 

Every day he calls me when he cannot be here, and chatters to me, of normality, of hope, of a life (his) altered by us knowing each other. Flowers arrive in his hands, his mouth is filled with stories. He brings bottles of Rioja and Prosecco, books and chocolate and  holds them out for me to take. My life is altered too. He has taken a firm hold of me and is sewing the jagged holes together again, with glittery thread. He is making the tiniest of shiny stitches all across me, and I feel fixed. Ready to fly. 

I'm so sorry to ooze.  You see, I never thought this would happen again. I thought this kind of thing happened once, if you were lucky. Never expected to be struck twice, while staring at the sky. 

Here is the fairground. I'm coming in, and bringing someone with me.


* Name re-christened to protect the fabulous.





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