Clandestine Confessions

“Well, the big life update question is have you played corn hole yet?”
I let out a laugh.
I think of him every single time I walk past it at work; the smile that coincides with the thought’s presence sure to give away to anyone watching I am smitten by a memory…or person…or both.
And when the prospects show enthusiasm over its existence (more common than one would think), I will tell the tale of a friend requesting this game become a fixture in my life.
Less for the entertainment value of it and more for me to reconnect with the art of letting go, embracing being terrible at something and doing it anyway.
“Go have fun at failing,” he said during a conversation back in July. “You will miss out on far too much joy in life waiting for perfection. It’s safe to say yes without any answers as to how it will work out in the end.”
“Are you calling me out?” I asked him half joking, half serious.
“Now J, how could I ever do that when I haven’t seen you or talked to you in what…15 years?” I could feel the smirk forming on his face on the other end of the phone. His tone revealed his countenance…and it was the perfect blend of peace and humor and authority.
My mind laid down its sword in the presence of his safety, backing down and clearing a path for truth to make its way through this lie infested territory.
Here he was, once again making me better. His gift to do so now on a 17-year streak. Since that first hello in the most hopeless of places, he has been an unknowing instrument in healing my mind and heart…even in the years of our communication lapsing. In fact, this ability of his was actually louder in our silence.
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(Debating how vulnerable I want to be here…I will say this and only this for now; when you know what you are capable of feeling, your heart will not allow you to settle for anything less. It will fight the “less than”. It will refute it and sabotage it in ways that will not always make sense. Trust it. A beauty like that can serve as your compass in many life decisions if you allow it to lead.)
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“But…you did just confess to reading every single piece of my writing,” I rebutted wittily.
I did a quick scan of the mental inventory of all my excerpts ever released.
Not done so in shame or anxiety for I trusted him with all of it (and then some).
But more so to gage just how much this man had come to know the adult version of J.
I was trying to establish a clearer idea of the extent of my soul I had already exposed to him.
And determine his threshold for not running away.
That latter motive admittedly driven by a wound from my past relationships still attempting to be stitched up.
I vastly underestimated rejection’s capabilities.
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“That I have…” his voice trailed off a bit. I was ready to interject a new thought before he continued. “J, you know you possess a tremendous gift, right? Your ability to captivate one with your writing is one I have yet to come across in another.”
The generous remark hit my heart harder than any other time it was said to me.
It felt his words quicker than my mind could comprehend them, resulting in tears instantaneously falling before he could even finish speaking.
The view of the trees and river beside me now blurred by bliss and gratitude.
The world never looked more beautiful. Such a breathtaking clarity amidst the distortion. And my mind was beginning to become a reflection of the same phenomenon.
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This impassioned emotional response was largely in part because the compliment came from his voice…this man who I had completely written off ever hearing from again.
Who I tucked away as simply “the one who got away”.
Who was forever going to be left as the greatest “what if” to exist.
Who, interestingly enough, was the character being introduced in the latest chapter of my book; a page I had been stuck on for 9 months prior to his physical re-entrance back into my world.
“All I could ever ask of you is to never go silent, okay? Do not let your fear of being imperfect rob this world of you…,” he paused briefly. “Or of you playing corn hole.”
His contagious laugh re-entering the atmosphere from that last statement was our mutual queue to allow the conversation to shift.
Until we would revisit the topic a couple months later during this late night phone call.
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“No, sadly I have yet to play,” I confessed to him. “But! My apartment complex just added boards to our common area. I have been eagerly awaiting to tell you the great news!”
Among many other things that are too soon to share…if they will ever reach his ears at all.
Like how I feel as if my life has wildly been transported back to 2006-09.
When my heart’s fixation overpowered my mind’s obsession for the first time.
When I learned of love’s power to breathe purpose back into lungs searching for a reason to keep me alive.
When I discovered the existence of a feeling that dispels the belief the eating disorder is too big to fail.
When I envisioned an intricately designed, emotionally curated future that would be identical to the present I could be living in now…
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However, that last part did happen to slip its way out.
Not without a little help from the greatest encourager of chasing after love I have ever met.
My sissy.
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To be continued…