Autonomy Is Life, Dear, Wear it Well.

Oh, dear men, how I love to love you — in my own sweet way.  Perhaps it is not your way, and therein lies the proverbial, painful rub.   Alone again today, but serenely so, I find myself reflective, but kind.  He was there for two years, and then he was not.  So it goes.

Rubbing my freshly scraped heart with the salve of self care, I heal the grief, again.  I accept the loss, again.  I embrace grace.  I forgive us both, again.  Gratitude raises its tattered white flag on my soul, and peace returns — again.   I acquiesce to me-ness, release all us-ness to the cosmos and half-smile.  I hug me, I hold me, I soothe me.  Shaky hours pass until agency returns — always just in the nick of time.  In she struts, smirking and smartassy:  “it was worth it, and then some!”  she reminds me.  I nod.  “So there, fate!”  “So there, piteous, pithy advice columns!”  “So there, burning, lazy pride!”  “It was worth it times a hundred!” Agency fires off truth, again. I sigh, acknowledge and chuckle.  My shine is in sight.  Life is calling, and I will answer, again.  Swaddled in shiny me-ness, wrapped thickly in wisdom against the gusts of heartache, I emerge a rapt pilgrim eyeing a beckoning, yellow sunrise.

I live, I learn, and today I know that love never takes — it teaches us how to give and to grow…into ourselves.  Heartbreak just taught me that.  I brought him into my life to learn that, and it is done.  So it goes.  Oh, dear men, how I love to love you, so sweetly and so strongly.  I choose to love, it is my way, even when it is not yours.  I am mine to lead.  Life is mine to share.  Love is mine to give.  If tomorrow becomes mine, I will choose to shine, and to love and wear the day well.  See you there…with hugs.

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