NOVEMBER IN THE WOODS
I wondered this week, if I had cut my bangs because of that day trampling through the woods down by the creek.
Because I had once loved that day so very much.
So fucking much because it was undeniably prepossessing and intense.
There are only three other people who know how powerful that day was, and the way those memories seared in to our minds like the most painful branding you could get.
Not one of us came out of that day unharmed or disenchanted.
Friends walked hand in hand.
Shoes were taken off.
A warm and unusual breeze floated through the air.
The smiles were rich and true.
Was it the click of the camera and the excitement of the unknown and the known mixing?
Or the odd and unpredictable future looming in the distance?
There was cold in the distance, waiting for the four of us.
Each one of our futures would be so very different than we thought.
Why did it feel like it did then?
The way my hair fell that day? And today.
Why did I let them talk me into bangs? I hate bangs. I've always hated bangs.
Was it because you reached out to me?
Was it because I missed you?
I brushed them out of my face, and I remember.
It was because I missed that girl in the photo.
It wasn't you.
It wasn't the way it was brushed out of my face.
It wasn't the unusually warm November day.
It wasn't the photographer or the pictures, or the way the creek gently whispered down the way.
It wasn't the book I was writing literally and figuratively.
It wasn't the moment frozen in time.
It was the girl in that photo.
It was her, that I missed.
It was the furious way I loved without doubt and fear.
It was the way I would imagine a wild horse feels right before it broke out in a straight run.
The way that breeze pulled the auburn hair out of my eyes and the photographer got just the right shot was what we needed.
The pages are gone, they've been long turned and forgotten.
I turned back to those pages, just for a little while, so I could remember who she was and who she is.
At the time I didn't understand serendipity.
I didn't get it.
Oh, how I thought I did.
I had what if's and maybes, and shoulda, woulda, coulda's.
I had not good enough's,
I had handfuls of heartaches and a heart full of love.
I had secrets.
I had pain and happiness at the awful and exact time at it's greatest magnitude possible.
I had bruises.
I had dried blood and fresh blood that had begun to run together.
It was like war paint.
The black and red contrast visible only to those closest to me.
I had beauty and ugly dancing around inside my body in pure and glorious harmony.
I had the darkest of dark and I had the brightest of the light.
I had hopeless hope.
I had what I thought was an eternity of loneliness.
And I had more coming, all of those things waiting to grow in intensity, just around that next corner.
I had a battle ahead that I was so unprepared for.
But I had not, serendipity.
I didn't know what was just over the horizon of that warm, golden and breezy November day in the woods.
I didn't know that the shadows dancing on those faces would be the last time I saw them.
The way they were.
Exactly like they were that day.
It would be the last time you saw me.
The way I was.
Serendipity lies in the shadows sometimes.
She bides her time and waits until it is deemed necessary to change a situation.
Often times, maybe, just maybe because we don't have the courage to change the situation alone.
We are scared.
We are lost.
We are hoping for something that just isn't right for us.
And instead of learning the lesson, serendipity allows us a moment to breathe.
She chooses for us.
I sat last night, and had a moving conversation. Again, a lesson in happy accidents.
As I waited for him to say the worst, it happened.
But the worst was beautiful.
His worst, was much like my worst.
Our worst was the same.
The exact same.
Like that day in November, in the woods.
As I stared at him with the intent to remember every single detail about the eyes that I love almost painfully so, I prayed that they always stare back in to mine with the exact same intense and deeply moving love.
I prayed that his worst and my worst were over.
I wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in my arms and just keep loving him as if we won't get a tomorrow.
Every single part of him.
The blood, the emotion, the good, the bad, and the past that molded who he is today...I have it in the palm of my hand.
He is my serendipity.
And I am his.
There can be no what if's.
If you allow it to happen.
Did you hear me?
There can be NO WHAT IF'S.
One single moment of serendipity can wipe every single "what if " out of your heart.
As I brush my bangs off of my face, and I think about that girl in that picture, the flood of emotions for her and the longing for who she is...is different now.
Because if I were that same woman, my heart would never be as full as it is now.
What a beautiful day in December, to remember November.
The Hive Publications, 2015