Trust is a funny thing. You have to have faith to trust. Going through a green light that the others on the road will obey the rule to stop at the red one. You trust that the chair will hold you up and you won’t plummet to the floor when you sit. You trust your son will call you if he’s going to be late, that your husband will not cheat and now we’ve arrived. And it didn’t take very long, to the understanding that trust always leads to expectations and mine have apparently always been too high. Because people I trust leave me.
I met up with Harry today at a restaurant because he only had an hour which turned into almost two. I was a little quiet today because I couldn’t put into words what I was thinking and feeling.
My ex and I had a life together. Every part of our being was woven and connected somehow into the other. So much so that when he left it was like tearing a garment from one piece in two. I had a relationship with a man who lived in another country and we dreamed a dream that was not meant to be. But we worked hard to make it real by weaving the broken pieces of his cloth to mine trying to match up the frayed edges as best we could to make one piece; presentable and functional and strong. But he didn’t tie some knots on his end…or I should say he didn’t UNTIE some knots. And we unraveled quite dramatically right before we were done sewing the two pieces together.
Now I have Harry and he is this amazing person to know. I’m in complete love with him. Over the moon. I love to listen to him talk. I love to hear what he thinks about things. I love to have him give me big hugs, and kisses. And as much as we like each other we are not cut from the same cloth. So matching up all our edges might be a little tricky.
He is made of rough fabric in a loose weave. He’s lived, he’s seen lots, and he’s done lots. His childhood was very different from mine, the environment much more permissive. Every part of his life has been different from mine. Our connection is our logic, the way we think about things, and our love. Our connection also comes from how we treat people and our drive to accomplish good things and that we have a common history coming from the same town, same school.
My fabric is tightly woven and in my view made to look more valuable than it is, like polished cotton. Shiny only because its been processed, and worked on. It may look nice and expensive but in the end it’s still just cotton. I’ve grown up with rules, and expectations and a desire to please people I care for. On the outside I am that woman who pretty much has it all together but on the inside is afraid of two things. Not being liked, and being left.
Despite those fears I am what I am. I have to be, I don’t know who else to be. It’s all I know. And I am NOT afraid to try.
So I kept staring at Harry today, listening to him talk and every now and then kissing him or letting him kiss me. When I’m with him I feel like time stops. It’s the best feeling in the world. When I study his face I know deep down that he’s in my life now forever come what may. He’s part of my heart. I love him. I know me. I know what that means. I’m not sure I know what it means for him. I’ve made the mistake before of transferring my value system onto the expectations of someone else and it kept me from being able to even conceive of the lies that I had to deal with. I would never lie like that therefore he would never lie either. I was wrong. Dead wrong. And I don’t want to be wrong again.
He’s letting me into the deepest level of himself and I am letting him in too. We are getting out our fabric and wondering which side we should start sewing together, with what kind of thread, and what kind of stitch. We both want it to hold. One extreme is getting the sewing machine out and just get er done. You know you love him so seal the deal like they used to before the man went off to war. It’s romantic…it’s reckless. Another is to just stitch it in a very loose hand stitch that can easily be undone so it doesn’t bond the two fabrics together…making it easy to live our own lives and yet still be close and enjoy each other as much as we can outside of all our other obligations.
But this is what I want. I want Harry to be the first person I talk to each morning and the last person I talk to at night. I want him to know me better than anyone else on the planet. I want to hold his hand and help him when he’s sick. I want to do projects with him. I want to live with every confidence knowing I am the only one for him, so that he can be that guy friend to girls and hang out with the guys and be himself. I want to travel and see the world with the only man I’ve ever known who knows more than me about what we’d be seeing. I want him to be a person on my children’s speed dial knowing they could call him in a heartbeat if they needed anything. I want the kind of stitch that is hard to tell where his fabric starts and mine begins. Something strong that can weather any storm. I want him to become my family of choice…I want it all. I want the dream again.
But my spirit is quiet tonight realizing that I’ve wanted this before. I’ve been willing…so very willing…to make it work before and I’ve been let down. My heart has been broken. I feel so healed…eating better, sleeping better, so content. But today as I looked into his eyes and saw the rest of my life in them I realized that I needed to believe that I could trust him. And I got afraid for the first time. Because I know he will do and be what he will. My hope for my dream is now in his hands.
It made me think of this song…and it made me a little melancholy. Maybe its brave even to be pondering the idea at this point, but I really do like him that much. He is very special. And so it goes….