I just moved to this remote little town, a fishing village a small Island in NC. It’s been eight months of me resting my brain here. The first week, I did meet someone, that we totally connected on a Spiritual level. It had to be, he said, “It’s not a match, but it was great.” We remained acquaintances until he met someone he honestly believed this was it. He would devote everything he had to this women. Honorable, but bittersweet. I lost my Buddha buddy. Well, he is one person, I truly wanted to see him happy.
Life, such curve balls it throws. It all depends on the mitt we are catching with, that determines our receiving of the situation thrown. Stike one.
Three months past, not a word, email, text or hello. When he did come to mind, I smiled and said to myself; he found it, he found what he hoped for. So, life went on.
I came in the house from swimming and while waiting on a friend, I checked my e-mails. One, just one email in my inbox. Subject line: I finally found it, here it is. A brief apology for not keeping in touch and how life got so busy. He asked me to read the essay, he is a writer, that he attached to the e-mail and it will explain everything. To put a relationship that was in the burning depths of hell and him walking on hot coals, the appendage that was sucking the life out of him, he dowsed it with water, like the Wicked Witch of the West, when she was melting, to the point of not even a smolder. Dead, it was over and he moved on quickly, down the yellow brick road.
Naturally, the next question or statement was, do you want to do lunch and catch up? Sure, why not. We agreed on a day and met at his house.
I drove to his house for some reason already feeling safe. So comfortable with someone I hardly know and yet I can feel his next thought of complexity or happiness. Who said you have to know someone for so long to be a soul mate? The first day spent with him I knew. What a lucky bastard.
I drove up to his driveway, he met me at my car. It was like we never had a time of separation. Embraces, warm hugs, and smiles. Were there birds singing, how so cliché, I can stand it…but there freakin’ was. Oh, one big difference was we addressed his tormenting situation of the last three months. Then we just went with the flow. Easy.
He showed me his house, I wasn’t surprised. It was him. Eclectic. Spoke in volumes and then whispered. Confusion was the kitchen; but so beautiful. His two cats he loved so much were introduced. Before the introduction, he forewarned me that the gray cat named Emma; is very fickle and would come to me for a while. It would take months. I put my hand out, called Emma, and she came right to me. He was shocked. Magical! He doesn’t know I am part cat. Then there was Arni, named after Arnold Palmer. I don’t have to explain why read between the lines. For the love of golf in my life!
We now relax outside on his deck, sitting in two chairs looking out at his inspirational garden, I turned to look at him and just saw how really battered he was. I have to take care of him. I feel like I am his little sister. Hey, it’ the brother I never had. Yeah, right. I had so many in my life. As I was talking there was a chicken, yes a chicken. I passed looking at my friend and went beyond his profile and saw a chicken pecking away and strutting. Billy, there is a chicken in your yard. Unannounced to me, his neighbor, also extrinsic women, had chickens walking around her yard. Like peacocks wouldn’t be unusual there.
The next thing I was doing was trying to catch a chicken. Okay. We had no shoes on walking through brush and trees to catch this is chicken that flew his staying quarter in her big front yard. We got her and returned her to his owner.
We ate the food I brought over and it was an organic delish dish.
Oh and this is what I was waiting for. A motorcycle ride. Now I can fly. He has a Vintage Indian. It’s the Bently of all bike I think. Harley’s I love, but this bike is one of a king. How about mint green and cream and saddle bags of smooth leather of vintage suitcases would be.
The street he lived on is not a busy street, but wait. a cemetery. I love cemeteries. It’s not weird. Let’s face it, no one is there, it is so quiet, no one bothers you. peaceful. I use to read in the one near my house, sit near people name I knew and would read. This time we rode the Indian through the quiet cemetery with so much character. More so, than the one in the movie, The Garden of Good and Evil. The groundskeepers that were maintaining the grounds and others dropping a box in the ground, didn’t seem to mind us riding up and down and around the peaceful grounds. Stopping at monumental stones, looking at trees with Spanish morse so long, we marveled at them. So majestic and given so much character were needed.
Another good day.
I leave it at that, and I will put it in my box of all good days.
We said our good-bye after more deep conversations about life. How simple it is, but how people you let inside your life can turn everything upside. You just don’t let it happen. I say new recruits. This new acquaintance I have in my world, the jury is still out on him. There is nothing written I can’t enjoy the company until I will decide he is in. He’s not another fixer-upper. He brings it to the table.
Another Good Day.
The Bitchen Phoenix #BillyHirschen
September 2017, Wilmington, NC