a toast to the circles

April 01, 2012 Candace Morris 3 Comments

When Joel leaves, even for one night, I get the smallest taste of how different my life could have been.  I realize how incredibly hard it is to fall asleep without him snoring next to me, and while that other life would have certainly been full of its own treasures, I know more and more that a life without Joel - well, I'll have none of it.

I am usually the one travelling away from home, and in that circumstance, I think it's easier to be distracted from how much you miss your lover.  When you are the one left behind, new mysteries of self-independence await.  All at once, you realize how simultaneously capable and incapacitated you are without your partner.   When I hadn't heard from Joel for the entire day, the self-pity began to gnaw at my pregnant heart (for those of you who are interested, pregnancy actually re-situates the heart chakra, exposing your vulnerabilities to everyone you meet.  It's not just the hormones that make pregnant women emotional, but the energy shift).  

"Why isn't he calling me?  Worse yet, this means he's not even thinking of me.  Why doesn't he read my to-do lists?  Why doesn't he bring me flowers, why do I always have to buy them for myself?"

After a few hours of this, I stopped.  Something inside me saved me and I determined to remember Joel's needs above my own.  Considering what I really wanted was for him to refresh his soul, how could I begrudge a day where I am not his first thought; a day where work doesn't consume all of his words; a day where his very best friend - the forest - nurtures him back to himself.  A day where his huge hands don't have to carry all three of us.  

I began to feel a slowly increasing empowerment, for it was in this realization that I found my hands big enough, strong enough to hold us.  And then I remembered that on his walk home from a 11-hour work day Friday, he picked me a small cherry blossom.  Marriage is very rarely about grand gestures; it is more the desire to share beauty in small ways throughout your days.  I don't want him to think of me as something to do, a relationship to upkeep, a woman to romance.  Instead, I want him to romance himself and in so doing, truly make me swoon.  Who knows if he picked that blossom because he was overwhelmed with appreciation for me.  Perhaps he picked it because its beauty struck him, and if beauty reminds him of me - I am romanced to my very core.

Where there is a stone of discontent blocking your path, there is its underbelly of lasting happiness.  You must pick it up to discover its flip side.

I'd like to propose a toast.  Mimosas Up (I wish):
To the odd realizations that your breakfast has many, many circles.  I count 25 in this photo, you?
To knowing who you want.
To the solitary midnight baths where the poetry flows.
To the blessed gift of waking up adjusted to your current life exactly as it is and in full acceptance of how it will change.
To music's way of filling the emptiest of spaces with nostalgia and hope.
To finding a way to live with and learn from depression.
To coming home to zero junk mail and two letters from your best ladies.
To the fruit toppings bar at Portage Bay.
To kissing babies.
To cooking for yourself.
To you, for being so strong.

Sometimes I swear I can see my atomic particles.

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