Living across a Wire
The tragedy of life is only eclipsed by the sweetness of the kindred, and not only is that so true especially now in the hardest parts of this new way of life. All along there has been a friend who was there for me, for when the world shook, and left me in the scrapes, there was this girl who held my heart, and protected it through encouragement across a telephone wire. When dad died, (a phrase I use often, in many ways was a turning point to begin living), the way she cried in the silence that distance creates, when she knew she couldn’t be there to help, spoke volumes to me in ways that hope can heal.
We often found ourselves encircling each other paths, like small moons in apogee and perigee orbits sometimes intersecting, and most times not. Between us both, we’ve lived across four states, in twice as many years, and twice more than that in the number of physical addresses we’ve had. But none of those limitations made a play on us like it does in the world as we all know it. Distance was to be laughed at times, even though we wished it wasn’t a factor. Because nothing seemed to close the distance in our perceptions of each other. It was like we were always there in some shape, form, song, color, shape, or idea. Sitting alone in traffic on the 101, I-35E, 436, or the Mopac, we were still there together. A conversation with others leads to a saying, an idea, a reminder. A blur of hair color on another girl. A lyric, a book, a memory, a saying, a notion and a feeling that would snap a reminder in each of our minds towards the other. Like many friends, we’ve all found and lost love in our life. Had our hearts torn from us, and unlike many, have an appreciation and a perspective on Living since we’ve lived so long without it at times. Because we are still here.
Friends like this don’t come and go. And its because of the momentous points of interest in the journey of our lives, that it feels natural to be there when her son is born, to encourage me when I’m fighting for my own children, to encourage each other’s art and what makes us passionate, and its because of that closeness, that bond, that connection unlike any other, that can softly whisper the words of comfort at the end of a phone conversation, that can isolate and nullify at least in part, the pain.
People refer to others like this as angels, mystics, or soulmates, an idea of friend who completely knows you and all your faults, and doesn’t give a shit at the pre-judgements that others might have made. A friend who forgives, who sees you at face value, for what you are, for the sake of returning to the trust, that bond, that haven from the sheltering sky of harshness the rest of the world can dish out. Many have heard description on this topic, but I’m certain we all know what it is. And it is this image, that I feel captures perfectly that genuine character of her, and how she sees me.
St. Paul, MN
Leica M6 50mm Summilux Expired Vericolor 160