For two years we barely spoke and rarely saw each other. Feelings were so strong when they first came about. Well, she is emotional, was intense since she was a child. I do not know how one can burn so bright for so long. Where does the fuel come from, I constantly wonder? Nevermind that. There was enough energy there to keep me from any other emotional attachment for two years and I wanted that. She is in Atlanta, and we met in Savannah, which was the path of General Sherman in his march to the sea. From spite he turned and salted the earth. Just as in my romantic life these last years.
Now, what strange things can come about when one's love is far, but not dead. It's an unnatural circumstance if you consider it. Primitive man was not burdened with these concepts of time and space like we are. It's a subtle torture, but few realize this. Just being aware that your friends, your family, anybody you care about could go to a place far away -- but not death. It's limbo. It's numbness. And it is most unholy. Perhaps we all look to television and computers to shrink our world again, and will this be a balm? Yes, I digress.
The body yearns the worst. That is physical love -- touch. I know infant chimpanzees and humans alike will die if they aren't touched. Just touched! It is so important. We must touch to love, and strangely we must touch to let go. So, this is what I have been getting at. What happened was this: a proxy. And this was Meg. And all of my feelings-for-Laura had to go somewhere and she helped me with that. At what cost? I do not know, and I don't want to.
What a triumph it finally is when a single seed sprouts through that once salted earth. I am a naturalist and nothing delights me more than this network of life we are. Dandilions poking through crackling cement sidewalks represent a majestic triumph to me. I do not hate people or constructions, I just love nature all the more, and if it were my say, we could do away with asphalt altogether. But yet, I never thirsted for the forests and fields as I do living in the fears-made-of-walls.
Perspective is back because the view is beautiful again. All of it.