struck by lightning

in love •  3 months ago  (edited)


I told him that I will marry him when I grow up. And then I ran away. Away and back again.

I felt like I had survived being struck by lightning in meeting him. I was ill and happy in his presence; butterflies, dizzy, dumbstruck. He thought we ought to live together after our first couple of months. His enthusiasm was so stunning that when he mentioned dropping out of school to start a life together, I put the brakes down. He was brilliant and I wanted him to shine. I didn’t want to be a reason why he wasn’t fulfilled in his future.

We agreed to put the energy we felt for one another into our work. Napoleon Hill, Chapter XI; Think and Grow Rich.

Our busy schedules, had us meeting at random intersections in Los Angeles for a hug and hello. We had each other’s heart but couldn’t make too much time for one another between our respective schedules. He disappeared to work on his thesis and build his business. I disappeared to build my teaching practice, go to dance rehearsals, and live my adventures. I wrote him letters hoping my cheerful words would put a rainbow in his world of math theories and music history. We were happy workaholics.

He encouraged me to live closer to him. His place wasn’t big enough for me and my piano but there was an apartment in his building. No no no. What about my building? I like my neighborhood more. The impasse weakened us. He was newly focused and excited over his work where I was excited about my new baby nieces and nephews. Slowly, the man I loved and hoped to marry someday rose to become my moon, my man.

Someone new charmed their way into my life with promises to meet the dreams I had. Was I struck by lightning a second time? No. It was a stealth maneuver that impressed me. Childhood phantoms over divorce eventually claimed the new boyfriend despite his family’s intervention. After showing up unannounced at my family’s home during a holiday celebration to ask forgiveness, he betrayed his own words by the next day. Mr New Boyfriend came and left like a dramatic storm.

Lightning bolt moon man and I remained friends, writing him only on his birthday and every New Year’s Day. My new boyfriend never knew the existence of a past boyfriend nor did my old boyfriend know the details of my new one. I wanted to build a new life. My friends and family honored a moratorium to see if I could create a promising future and shake what I thought was an epic youthful crush.

My epic youthful crush.

OMG will I ever recover from being struck by lightning? Is this what everyone experiences when they fall in love? A consuming power of passion that wrestles with a protective spirit of friendship? I’d rather have a moon than no moon at all; a friend to admire that I never wish to press disappointment on than no kin spirit at all. My world would feel somewhat less brighter. Can someone else stealthily steal my heart again and declare my moon as a youthful notion?

The friendship endured and the notions didn’t tire with the passage of time. He shines brilliantly through his work as I knew he would and I’m writing to him more than a birthday and happy new year hello. Still the question remains, will he and I ever find a way to be together in this life or will we remain like the moon and stars for one another?

N: “I’ve always felt like E was the one.”
J: “You’ve loved him for a very long time.”
RA: “Please tell me there’s more to your story.”

Perhaps. E once told me the story of a king in Arabian Nights who married a new woman each day and had her killed by morning for fear she would betray him. The king was fascinated by the storytelling of Scheherazade, who requested that her sister stay for the evening and ask her to tell a story. Scheherazade ended her stories before dawn thus gaining another day to live and finish her story. By the time she reached 1000 stories, she said she had no more stories to tell. The king fell in love with Scheherazade and then made her his queen.

It was a romantic story. I loved it when E shared it with me. I feel like Scheherazade, alive yet another day.


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