The Garden



Preface: I wrote the following letter back in May when it was believed that I might have terminal cancer. I never sent it to the person, but I did actually post it here – privately (viewable only to me). Re-reading what I wrote is bitter-sweet – well, not bitter-sweet, but epiphany-ish-sweet (a new Sam-ism! Lol). It’s epiphany-sweet because just one single event/circumstance changed how I feel. The event doesn’t invalidate what I felt at the time. As I was reading it this morning, I thought that this was such an awesome way to have felt about someone that I shouldn’t keep it to myself. It’s a beautiful and personal short story that I decided to share with my readers:

A few years ago, you took me to some sort of garden where you work. I have no clue where it is, I just remember it was a beautiful summer day in early July, just short of our one year anniversary, and I was laying on my back looking up at you – talking with you, and you were laying down on your stomach next to me on my right…looking down at me. You were laughing, and you had this sort of twinkle in your eyes that I used to love to see – in those days, I saw that twinkle quite often, and it made you even more handsome than you already were because it gave me a hint of how much more beautiful you are inside when you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with me. I don’t remember the conversation. I do remember the atmosphere: I remember how comfortable and happy I was with the sun smiling down on us as we laid there conversing on the grass, surrounded by these tall purple flowers (just like the ones in the ^photo^). I remember the feeling of strong physical desire as I lay next to you with a white mini skirt and a very feminine black polo shirt on – I could feel the palm of your hand, gently caressing my bare thigh. Every now and then, in between our laughter, you’d lower your head and kiss me on my lips…and a few times, I took your hand from against my thigh, intertwined your fingers with mine, then turned it sideways to kiss just below your knuckles – other times I would kiss the middle of your palm, and then put your hand back on my leg where it seemed to belong. None of that seemed to stop our talking or laughing…we never took our eyes off of each other. While the aura that surrounded us was quite erotic, there was, at the same time, this happiness that lingered in the air – it was just as bright as the sun that was shining on us, and though I don’t remember what endearing things we may have been saying to each other – perhaps the words weren’t even romantic as we could have been merely discussing our nine to fives. The important thing that I do recall is that I was laying there thinking how aware and in awe I was of my feelings of intense physical desire, admiration, care, and respect for the man laying beside me; it felt good, but it also felt…uniquely natural…in that moment, I felt real peace, the kind of peace that is rare, but can exist between two people who are emotionally, physically, and spiritually in synch. When I close my eyes now and go back to that place, I can actually still feel that sense of peace that was embracing me…I think it was embracing both of us, and perhaps that’s what the twinkle in your eyes was all about. Those moments…that moment…it was what it was – yes, complex…yet so very simple at the same time. I was so happy to be where I was, and you seemed just as happy to be where you were: together, doing nothing but enjoying each others’ company. It’s a beautiful memory that I didn’t forget, per se, but I also didn’t remember it until very recently, and when I did remember, re-living the memory literally made me catch my breath…I’m still in awe. With every ounce of the old negativity gone, I now realize that for every single hurt, pain, anger, sadness, injustice, or disappointment that I might have felt in the past, not one of those feelings in their individuality or even when they were combined for double strength (they might have attempted to and may have even succeeded to tip the scale for a time), did not, cannot, and will not outweigh the one thing that was always there – refusing to die or go away – no matter how hard I tried, because that one thing was inevitably much stronger:

I don’t need to say what it was, because…you know.

Love, and Love Always, too,
Sam

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2 Responses to “The Garden”

  1. Yes. And it feels like the caress of a warm tropical ocean, a silent breeze, or the kiss of sunlight in the morning. The most intimate expression and solace of love communicated.

    Thank you for this.

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