Sunday, October 23, 2011

Four words. Two details.

Am so pleased to have found an end to the awful unknowing hell of thinking that B was angry / hurt beyond reparation or, worse, physically ill in some sudden way.

Now that that question has been put down, however, comes the fact of dealing with the very real and irrefutable details of our situation which feels very, very Griffin and Sabine at best.

- 10,000 miles
- 20 years

Four words. Two details.

I was born too early, it seems, for everything that my heart desires. Either by decades or centuries. I see things that can't be. I long for the functionally impossible with a fierce need that breaks my heart with every second and each beat. This is not to say that I am dissatisfied with this world and life, not at all, but that I see the arc of my personal trajectory so far ahead of the curve of my deepest desires that it's hard not to feel an urgent and nearly unseated frustration with what is the present.

I am at a loss as to how I can reconcile this. Some days it feels like anticipatory grief and loss and it's at that point that I realize how deeply I believe that this is part of my journey: learning to wear this loss, impending and past, with a quiet dignity that defies both apology or pity.

That said, and again, I am at a loss as to how I can reconcile this. What is the long game and how do I play it? I can't have spent all of this time to get here only to find out that I have arrived too early, that everything I want and need is lost to me across an unfathomable gulf of time. I truly have faith in what's to come and that it will be amazing, but I'm loathe to let go of what I see before me now, so stunned am I by its impossible beauty even as I understand all of the implications and dynamics at play that prevent its fruition.

For B

"If only," he said.