At Last...
I was sitting out on the front porch yesterday…drinking coffee, solving the crossword, checking in with friends, listening to the Norah Jones channel on Pandora, watching the spring showers blow through in waves. It’s been a crazy week with trips to town for one thing and another every day since I got back from my last trip. Yeah, I know…it’s rough. But, I was really relishing a few hours of peace and quiet before a friend arrived in the afternoon for a visit. It felt good to just BE for a little bit. Those moments always turn something on in my heart…like fine-tuning the dial on a radio to get the station perfectly clear.
I was lost in reverie when Etta James came on with her sultry, smooth voice…“At Last”. Oh…there was a time when the mere thought of that song made me burst into tears. That was the song Mr. Virgo and I danced to at our wedding. The one…and only…time he ever danced with me. I can still remember the way my hand rested in his, the sparkle in his eyes, the early spring sunshine slanting through the panes of glass in the sun room of the restaurant where we were married. I remember the way the smooth, black and white tiles felt beneath my feet as he gently guided me in a four foot square…not standing still but not really dancing either. Just moving and sharing a special moment.
I was so excited to marry that man. My second divorce had left me yearning for a loving connection, as if changing my name would be another chapter further into the story of my life…further away from the pain and heartbreak that had come before. Our relationship was sweet and trusting, a mutual love and respect that soothed my broken heart and made me whole again. Three weeks shy of six years later, my heart shattered again when he died right in front of me.
Yes, there was a time when this memory would have caught me off guard and I would have been reduced to a puddle of messiness and pain. And, I’m sure there will be a time in the future when it triggers something that will open that wound again. Not yesterday. Yesterday, I smiled and remembered the way his suit coat felt when I laid my hand on his chest as we danced, his strength and confidence a source of comfort to me. I could almost smell his Halston cologne. I wish I could remember what we said to each other in that moment but it is lost to me. I wish he had liked to dance. I love being held in a tall man’s arms.
I was brought back…to the porch, to myself, to this beautiful life I am living…by the stunning sweep of a Pileated Woodpecker landing on the dead tree stump in the front yard where I have the rain gauge. At last…I have come home to myself and I’m anchored in this moment without drifting back into the stormy abyss of grief like a sailor being washed from the deck in a restless sea. At last. ❤️
“You made me suffer a lot, but you will bring me back from this deep pit and give me new life. You will make me truly great and take my sorrow away.” Psalms 71:20-21 CEVUS06