Clandestine Confessions

I had a visitor at work on a Saturday a few months ago.
A brief stop on his way up north for a two week trip to Washington for skiing and climbing.
“Are you doing anything tomorrow morning?”
The text came late in the evening on Friday. Seeing his name on my phone after coming out of the shower an unexpectedly expected surprise.
I felt it happening before I saw it…a calm abruptly hitting my rambunctiously anxious mind while washing my hair.
While I may be approaching the anniversary of a loudly vocalized favorite day of existence, there was an unspoken week of darkness prior that still makes itself known.
It had been excessively persuasive that night.
“I finished your story a while ago, so I want to give it back. I also finished another book recently I think you might enjoy.”
It was the way he wrote “another book” that made me smile…an alluding to mine being the predecessor.
The fact he actually did read it a giver of immense gratitude – now officially only one of two on this earth to do so.
We planned for him to meet me at the studio at 8:30.
–
Four and a half months had passed since I last saw him.
And if circumstances ever change, I will reveal what that meant for my emotional state that morning.
For now, I’ll just say the trauma lost its voice for a bit.
And it was beautifully blissful.
–
His arrival gave me déjà vu.
Flashback to the concert in October, him getting lost trying to find the venue.
Me looking one way for him and then getting distracted by the 825 that drove by.
Him coming from the other way and catching me off guard.
“Hey you!” I could hear the smile in his voice.
I turned around to greet him with mine.
And there we now were once again acting out this near identical performance.
It seems his unexpected arrival is a prominent theme in my life…dating back to May 27, 2021.
Funny enough he would text me very shortly after leaving the studio to let me know he was reminiscing on the memories of that same concert – that band to be the soundtrack of his twelve hour drive.
–
Standing at the desk, he handed me my story.
“This is for you.”
Immense emotion laced the retrieval of this coveted childhood relic – still preserved in pristine condition yet each page now covered in new fingerprints.
“So…what did you think? Remember I was twelve,” I said with a laugh, attempting to cover up my nervousness in anticipation of his review.
“Your mind…,” he began slowly.
It is a line I have heard many times before.
In the context of insanity.
Which way was this about to go…?
“To write such a thing at such a young age. It was incredibly creative and impressive. I mean, heck, I was barely able to write a decent paragraph at that point in life…and you wrote a book.”
“Well, I can assure you it has gotten immensely better since.”
“I am sure, but this was enjoyable.”
–
It wasn’t the positive feedback that released the tear from my eye in that moment.
No, it was something he did not even know he did…how he gave that little J her moment to shine.
Not letting the me of today, the words I write today overshadow what she created.
In her youth and innocence and budding passion.
The girl twenty years ago who believed she was invisible now being seen.
I could feel her wounds healing with those eyes on her… “you have always been worthy,” I reminded her.
This time of year persistently revealing to me how desperately she always needed to hear those words.
“My personal recommendation, you should do something with that,” he continued on. “There is something there worth exploring.”
–
Had he said that a week prior, my response would have been the repetitive two words I have spoken for far too many years…
“One day.”
But there has been a recent drastic change of life events.
One with such a power it is rapidly transforming my “one days” from future to present.