Three Guys

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hand-painted silk
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The following story is a testament to one of the very best things that happened to me all year:

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THREE GUYS

My formative years were spent sliding kamikaze-style back and forth between a happy little stoner gaze out beyond the utter comfort of the company I kept within my male dominated clique and the utter despair of trying to be ok in a fledgling teenage body. There was some very serious weaponry I carried which protected me from harm. I carry it still. I had three guys traveling with me down those winding and gritty roads called youth.

I will turn 60 years old this year. I feel really good, actually. Though my musculature continues to wither under the hungry reign of MS, I’ve got the luxury of all the time in the world to do the hard work of letting go of what no longer serves me and tending that which does. Sometimes it seems I live a narrow life but really, inside me is a swarm of very busy revelations, inspirations and realizations. Enter: THE THREE GUYS.

One was my first love to whom I gifted my virginity and would do it again given the chance. He was deserving on every level. Then there was my second love who saw and shared my fledgling artistic soul; we “got” each other so deeply and skipped around light in the feet for years as I recall. The third was a man who was so fond of the shadows that I could have missed him entirely. But I didn’t. I saw him and longed to love him but I don’t think I was cool enough back then.

This year, 40 years post high school graduation with close to zero communication taking place between us in the interim, something of a miracle took place that proved our connection still very much alive. These guys came up with the idea of a visit, scheduled the time off from their busy doctoring lives, bought a ticket, packed, got on the plane, rented a car and drove to my home, knocked on my door and I opened it to find I was and still am in love with those guys.

I knew it in a second. They walked in with gifts of fine wine and each of us (I could tell) were functioning pretty well like civilized friends greeting one another but under the pseudo-decorum was: “WHAT THE FUCK! THIS FEELS LIKE NO TIME HAS PASSED! WHAT PLANET AM I ON THAT THIS COULD BE POSSIBLE?”

They walked beside my wheelchair with nary any weirdness as we took on the town. We put on our old easiness like a favorite sweater and laughed over photos of nascent teenagers displaying the pain and pleasure of growing up. They wined and dined me, were watchful should my energy lag and happy to continue their evenings adventuring without me. I felt utterly safe, loved, supported, seen and suspended in the intoxicating cocktail that is us.

When the time came for them to leave me we parted on a Santa Fe street corner. I switched direction and wheeled away from them. After a couple seconds I turned back unable to look away. I sat there in my wheelchair as folks made their way past the obstacle that was me. Those guys of mine…

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2 Responses to “Three Guys”

  1. Jenny on December 31st, 2014

    Gorgeous memories, these are such poignant powerful memories. So good to write down the stories . Isn’t it funny how young we feel inside despite our muddled nervous systems?

  2. Church Ladies | Living Undone on October 10th, 2015

    […] I have written before about my personal brat pack from high school and the connection we forged which, for me, has been tempered over the years into the finest alchemical magic imaginable. […]

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