It’s Because of the Trees

I love him, a little bit. I think there’s a part of him that believes that my love is parsed out among too many other contenders. I know that I can see the most beautiful parts of people, and as such, it can be very easy to love them. 

I’ve never told him I love him, (a little bit), because I know he’d dismiss it. It’s not a big deal; it’s a truly manageable kind of love, born out of who he is, rather than what I think I need from him. Every once in a while, I flirt outrageously and he jumps out of the way of each serve. Most of the time, my affections bounce uselessly out of bounds, but then he occasionally lobs back one or two serves of his own. It’s our little game.

I am perfectly content to be his friend. I’ll even make a toast at his wedding when he finally finds someone who fits into his personal definition of what he needs and wants. Maybe he’s a reminder that I can love a man in a way that has nothing to do with sex and complexity.

I’m not surprised when, at the beginning of our wander, I find a blue jay feather. It’s matted and dirty, but I put it in my purse all the same. Last year, as I began my spiritual journey, I discovered automatic writing as a means to connect with my guides. They have repeatedly told me that they will appear to me as blue jays. When I hear them, I must listen with more than my ears. When I see them, I must see with more than my eyes.

In my last attempt at a serious relationship, we would each find blue jay feathers at pivotal moments of our disconnect and attempts at reconciliation. Reconciliation, I’ve learned, should never be pluralized. 

This friend who I love is happy to wander through the woods with me. Had I worn better shoes, I could have walked all day. I realize this is exactly why I didn’t wear great shoes. It’s just easy with him, to be myself. To laugh until I think I might pee, to see and be seen. He tells me more about his heart than he ever has on this particular walk. I know it’s because of the trees, and how their leafy boughs create a sense that they can hold onto anything.

When we finally decide to head back out of the woods, we get halfway through the park when I discover one of my magic-women on a picnic blanket with her girlfriend. I knew she was on a picnic because I’d reached out to her earlier to see what she had planned for the day. I had no idea that she’d turn up in the exact same place. 

We get invited to join the picnic. She’s amazed because just moments before we spotted them, she’d texted to see if I’d like to meet up. I’m amazed because I realize that the blue jay feather was a signal that I was stepping back into the magic.  I’m aware, down to the marrow of my bones, of the abundance of love and laughter in my life.

There is beauty everywhere I turn.