A while back I wrote a piece here as a response to a question a friend asked me in an email: “I often wonder in your heart, who it is that lingers there, who it is that still has your love but does not know it.” https://goodmorninggratitude.com/2011/08/19/who-lingers-in-your-heart/ . I replied with the most top of mind people who occupy good-sized real estate in my heart. An interesting phenomenon happens when as idea is planted and allowed to percolate over time; memory and response continually come from deeper and deeper recesses of my mind.
Now sitting here writing and opening the door on a further reply to the question “who lingers…” those who occupy smaller, yet treasured, scraps of memory surface.
Linda, the first girl I kissed when I was 13, immediately comes to mind. Actually she surfaces with some regularity. On June 21st I wrote about her and our magical afternoon in a post called “ Only One First Love”: https://goodmorninggratitude.com/2011/06/21/993/
Buddy H., my big friend and protector from high school has his own special place. He and I were the most unlikely friends. Music was our only real common ground and I liked him because he was a little “nuts” like me. Ever tried listening to “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” on 8-track going 120mph? We did! Buddy died in a boating accident when he was 20.
Ricky S. was one of my best friends in 10th and 11th grade. He was Mr. Studdly Cool and one of our favorite things was to go to dances. We specialized in going to dances in towns where we did not know anyone and ending up with a date to hang out with before the evening was over. His was a special manner with girls and attracted them like a magnet does iron. I benefited from that magnetism when we did our thing and always ended up with a girl on my arm. Vivid in memory is some steamy heavy petting in Dadeville, Alabama with two girls we had met one evening. Ricky and his date were in the front seat and I and mine were in the back. I smile as I remember those sweet moments.
Dale H. became my best friend in Jackson, Ms for the year and a half I lived there that included my senior year of high school. For better or worse, he was the person I smoked pot with back in the day. We almost giggled ourselves to death or overdosed on munchies on a number of occasions.
Marcia was the makeup artist assigned to me when I had a part in a school play. “Look Homeward Angel” which was a fairly racy selection to be performed at that time. She became my girlfriend for a good part of my senior year. How innocent and tender what we shared was. I’d run to get to the part of the school she was in so I could walk her to class and then run back to get to my class trying hard not to be late. Most of the time we’d trade little love notes on scraps of paper. I wish I had some of them today as my heart swells with the sweetness of the memory.
Carol was the “older woman” I got involved with when I was 19 (she was 23). We worked together and she was engaged but that did not stop us, even though it was wrong. She was the first woman I ever loved with the depth a man can love with. Our relationship was tumultuous and troubled, but also wonderful and ground shaking. The wounds that hurt then ended up being some great teachers for me. We went our separate ways after about a few months, but will always remember reconnecting for our last time together. Close to a year passed without seeing each other. Then one night came the knock on my door two days before she got married. We spent the evening in bed and said goodbye at my front door well after midnight. I never saw her again. Today I see the wrong and contradiction of of the night we shared, but also relish the memory of the passion we shared.
Michael was the man, who for six months, I thought was one of the best friends of my life. That was 13 years ago and he was charming, educated and intelligent. We were together doing things or hanging out often. The end result was deep hurt as I came to know that he was just using and manipulating me. We worked together and I was his boss. The friendship ended badly with me firing him for very wrong things he did thinking our camaraderie gave him special latitude. The lesson for me was difficult, but a necessary reminder that it is not just love of a woman that can blind. Friendship with a man can do the same.
One the lid on my heart is lifted and a peek is taken within, the many who have been players on the stage of my life begin to surface in ever greater quantity. My life has been a rich and colorful mosaic of experiences, for which I am deeply grateful for all. I am thankful for the joy, the good times, the love shared and the painful lessons that came from knowing and loving people. Frequently those individuals have been some of my greatest teachers.
In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years. Abraham Lincoln
Good Morning Gratitude 