I remember when it hit me years ago in Maryland. There was nothing I could do. We’d only spent a little time together—a walk on the beach, a drink at the bar—and she invited me for dinner. I sat at the little table in her kitchen while she cooked so we could talk. It felt so right, I didn’t ever want to leave. Radical for the likes of me, especially at that age. There was just something about her. We hadn’t even taken our clothes off yet and wouldn’t for almost a month.
Yesterday I went out hiking for the first time in a couple of weeks. It was sunny and cold, a little below freezing. There was still a lot of snow out on the mesa that days of sun and nights near zero had turned into a crunchy overlay. It was hard going because my feet sank in a little with every step. I’d also just seen that video of Obama with Jerry Seinfeld and knew I’d never be that cool or have that kind of dental work. This was so depressing, I almost turned back right away but stuck it out for three whole miles. The teeth! The confidence! The ease!
When I came home, I was moody and exhausted and not saying much, but she grabbed me by the shoulders, kissed me hard, and told me how glad she was to see me. Said it several times, in fact, and kissed me again. Her eyes were open wide and full of hot attention. Wake up, you idiot. Happy to see me, think of that, and I hadn’t done a thing to earn it. After thirty-five years of more adventure, melodrama, and uh, difficulty, on my part than most people ever see (much less survive), I get that much juice for simply being me. And sometimes I’m a bastard.
There are forces here no man should trifle with.
Take care, and happy New Year.