Normal in the Storm
We find normal in the storm. I'm Scorpio, so they say. I thirst for stability, but I reject routine. So how do I anchor my self but not my soul? How do I shape-shift endlessly and commit to love? Well, with him. With us. He and I repeat the intertwining dance, holding each other from nape to toe, sometimes by fingertips, sometimes by nothing at all. When nothing holds us we hold ourselves, in pride and fear and the desire to loop back into the other with stories and moments we've collected throughout the day. We hold each other in all combinations, but face-to-face is the best because we don't exactly fit but we can breathe each other in, including the unspoken pieces we don’t know yet and won’t know for a while. The dance is a ritual. Our souls strew out into the world for us to find ourselves in the pieces and reflections. Some pieces we pick up together, others when we’re completely alone. The only pattern is this. Feeling lost is a tradition. Feeling wrapped up in another is my habit. My grounding force is not him, it's us. He is my opposite and we are a balance. A swaying tower of trust. That's us. We say goodbye and I already want to know how he goes. If he met a dog on the way and did it bite or lick him, and which stranger he helped today. These thoughts are my routine as I go bouncing from bus to bus in every direction for no particular reason but that I was invited. I observe the time as it passes outside the window, ocean and concrete in a blur before the steady horizon line. And if I invited myself? The thought buoys to the surface. Whoosh. The world stops for a second as doors I was waiting to be opened swing off their hinges from this. one. thought. And if I invited myself? We're together again and it's like gliding. Any friction is a wringing out of our love, paying close attention to what comes out. He's endless possibility and it scares me. Someone who'd say, if you want to, do it, with no questions or qualifiers. No mention of when you’re ready, if you can’t, or when the time is right. He plays motivational videos for breakfast, tying his shoes ready to say yes to the world and stomp on the bullshit. We part and I'm vibrating. A strummed cello string exploring the length of its own sound in the air. I'm upside-down for a moment, nauseous on the curving bus. I listen to a song that reminds me how we create our own normal in the storm and calm blankets me for a moment. How do I keep my feet warm with his and walk alone through the thick forest? How do I embrace him and have hands to hold myself? Like clockwork, the questions arrive and I can't see that I can invite myself to the answers. That is my power. I can be us without him for a while. I travel up and down the coast, all swerves and standing in the aisle. I invite myself, Would you like to enjoy the ride with me? Would you like to say no sometimes so you can spend more time trying to touch what you long for? With me? If you want to, do it. Would you like to build a life with me? Would you like to be our own normal in the storm?