“Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “weather’s awful today, eh?”, you year inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “what do you think déjà vu is for?” Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator. But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks by your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the other…”
My mother told me she once fell in love at first sight—heart flat on the pavement.
She was walking on the road in Whitehorse and saw a man in a car driving. He was so beautiful it made her whole head, body, heart—all of it turn.
She pulled a 180 and learned later, so did he.
This moment wasn’t only her own.
A few days later she saw him again, at a grocery store.
There was lettuce and tomatoes, money leaving pockets. Beeping and people and wallets and cars.
She froze in her tracks—she was too shy to approach him.
She watched his back leave, the moment passed.
She thought about him and this moment for the next few days, strangling her shyness for not being bolder.
A few weeks later she was at a music festival in the Yukon and saw a man dancing in the rain, she said the rest of the world literally ceased to exist.
The rain fell and fell around her and she couldn’t hear, it was all slow, blurry—frozen.
It was the same man.
They began a wild time of intense love together.
These are the stories that make my heart beat the loudest.
I am a romantic idealist and I believe that these things—are not just for the movies.
The other night I went for dinner at Puggos, an Italian restaurant in Montezuma. I don’t dig the nightlife here–it’s my kind of town during the day but at night it takes a turn for something some may like, but it’s not for me. It starts off sweet, like my coffee and ends sour in my mouth.
A group of men sat down at the table across from some company and I. There was a man with curls bigger than I and a red shirt. He had a warm heart–I saw it in his laugh. The group of people was speaking something European–not Spanish, not English, not French–drinking beer and ending the day together.
When I see a man this beautiful it stops me shy in my tracks. I almost can’t bare to look sometimes–for I love so quickly and deeply I am afraid in a moment I will let it all in.
I was eventually found out and we held each other in our eyes for a moment.
I was floored–I wanted to smile, but instead I just felt like a deer in headlights.
It was so nice, to have this moment.
We did this on and off and I left, after the bread and the bruschetta and the talking and laughing and music–without saying hello or goodbye.
I regretted it immediately, but sometimes we must flip a coin with the universe and if it is tails, take a chance we will see one another again.
An hour later we ran into each other on the streets and he approached me–we spoke of why we are in this part of the world, what we do for money etc.
It was nice, to laugh and try understand in broken English small parts of our lives.
But a part of me struggled, for I wasn’t saying what was building in my throat, to be said most.
So I cut off this, whatever soft talk we were having and turned to him and said, “You’re one the of most beautiful men I’ve ever seen. I saw you and wanted to talk to you, immediately. To have coffee and know.”
The point of this story isn’t this said man, he is lovely and romance always warms our hearts.
The point is that this–makes life richer.
This–makes life more interesting, more rich, more tangible.
Always say what’s inside–the world can take it.
Your sweetness, your pain, your joy, your frustration, your trembling heart—let the world have it all.