One soul in two bodies abides, separated by flesh, united by life. A heartbeat that fades but never dies. More than a dream, this was my life, for a few endless summers of blinding light. She was my girl, my chosen wife. The reason I laughed and the reason I cried: a love once carried so deep inside. What memories remain now come to life, at considerable strain of heart soul and mind. These were the days when love reigned supreme: a shared lifetime in a vivid dream. Her absence was pain, her heartbeat my time, no shared moment so plain when she was right by my side. Having a love of my own to fill silent days, with moments of joy encouragement and praise, mutual support all fears allayed. This is the story of a distant past, a love once lived meant forever to last. Now finding a home in words not of regret, but in memories of joy eternally blessed, in these words finding an abode of final rest.
The founding document of our relationship was my declaration of dependence, a love letter conveying the reasons for my interest, explaining my future intentions and expectations in their full resplendence. The values binding our hearts all explicitly revealed, no subterfuge employed, no motive concealed. If love would abide by the terms of a written contract, my offer was signed delivered and sealed. Written in an ink that only immaturity provides, but in a heartless world, inexperience is sometimes the best guide. My offer was friendship, companionship and trust, undying love overcoming all lust. Of sexual pleasures I had no experience, all on offer was fidelity and undying allegiance. There could be no peace of mind without the mutual understanding true love warrants, so mutual dialogue based on sincerity and sensitivity was of paramount importance.If companionship in times of hardship was not explicitly mentioned, it should never have been a matter of contention, being an implied condition of the heavenly ascension, expected from a love that ourselves should only strengthen.
My declaration of dependence was accompanied by flowers, a bouquet of white roses that time would devour, but the purity of those white petals symbolized my own. She was the one and only girlfriend I had ever known. Having waited for more than twenty years, time had become a fearsome enemy. Though solitude was unaccompanied by tears, I desperately earned for true female empathy, a meeting of souls that would allay my fears… of being unable to share life with a woman to my heart always near. Though destined to succumb before the passing of days, flowers symbolized the cyclic restoration of love, always periodically made, lest the heart shrivel up along life´s tortuous way. This was the true symbolism of my rose, beautifully delicate and perfumed for a fleeting while, then seeking its final repose. To restore the brilliancy of her smile, other roses would also shine only for a fleeting while. Just as flowers have to be nurtured, watered, and gently cared, before and after given by the suitor, love has to be periodically declared, in any relationship having a bright future. My trips to the flower shop were always deeply memorable; expressing my heartfelt love was a testament of all feelings the most venerable.
The perfumed scent of white roses was accompanied by mellifluous romantic songs, a collection a lover carefully composes to express an intimacy he longs to share with the woman deserving of all his loving care. Each carried a special message, conveying emotions binding two hearts in silent marriage, a meeting of souls that first seemed to agree, when the coast was clear and no tempests seen. Those songs meant so much to me, for she was the woman those lyrics had foreseen: the princess chosen as my future queen. When listening to the music given, she knew no transgressions had to be forgiven, for my love was so pure and true, if ever similarly experienced by others, surely they were few.
For all the gifts received, she repaid me with a kiss, which only made me believe our feelings were of mutual bliss. Having waited for countless years many offers of companionship I declined, waiting for the woman worthy of my tears, though inclined to never make me cry. Given she was more experienced than myself, her first lesson was that kiss, the best in life one cannot teach oneself, but not to appear remiss, that kiss was shortly mastered in time to render it truly sublime. The passionate embrace of our lips would soon become, an outburst of a love against which all else would succumb. A man who awaits twenty years for his first kiss, will the true value his lover´s lips never dismiss, conveying a torrential diluvial love stored since his childhood years, setting aside all insecurities and fears, for the sole benefit of the woman he always missed, even before experiencing their first kiss. Although the magnetic interlocking of our lips were transcendental peaks of effervescent passion, gently kissing her soft supple cheeks was my favorite display of affection. If any part of her body was ever claimed as my own, her cheeks were the area I would never disown.
This divine simplicity of love was ubiquitous throughout our relationship. Long walks, romantic dinners and intimate conversations were our moments of courtship. During one such walk, she recounted her tale of woe, abuses experienced at the unforgiving hands of her heartless foe. The trauma caused by her ex-boyfriend had both a name and a face, moments of emotional and physical abuse I would spend the remainder of our years trying to efface. Placing my arm around her while holding an umbrella above, I shielded her both from the elements and a past-unrequited love. She later confided that for the first time she felt safe, no longer feeling abandoned like a stray unloved waif. An abyssal insecurity and fear of abandonment was the legacy he bequeathed her, one that I repeatedly tried to address in intimate conversations, laying to rest agonizing memories afflicting her. My personal contention was that sincere, heartfelt dialogue could resolve any pending problems. The alternative to compassionate words had been the abuse and violence befallen. By her own admission, I became her psychologist, priest and companion, patiently listening to all her problems previously abandoned, providing the requisite answers as a true lifelong companion. No burden imposed on her shoulders did she ever carry alone, for emotional abandonment was a crime I never condoned. She had in me her best friend, always ready to lend a helping hand with any of the struggles and decisions of life, assisting any of her family members when their talents alone did not suffice.
Whenever confronted with a major struggle, a best friend was always ready to hear her troubles, providing the muscle to bear heavy loads, and the sensitivity to clean all emotional rubble. Rebuilding all once destroyed now incomparably stronger, so that her sparkling smile could return for indefinitely longer. Dialogue became the centerpiece of our relationship; no issue ever subject to silent censorship, rendering fights an abnormally rare occurrence, though her jealousy and insecurity were an unfortunate recurrence. When words alone did not suffice, the protective warmth of a dear embrace, an ironclad hug always broke the ice, eliminating the silent space between us, restoring her natural grace, as no problems silently lay between us. This was the dreamt relationship of companionship and trust, an intimate fellowship far exceeding mere lust, as my life on her hands I would entrust. Two souls facing together the gale force winds of life. But those were the days when only she experienced emotional strife, while I remained larger than life, self-confident about my pursuits, finding in myself all the necessary attributes to deal alone with the most pressing questions of life. My hour of darkness had not yet arrived, only her zest for life and belief in love had to be revived. Her full weight was my own, but mine I bore alone. This was not a problem in itself; the gale force winds of life had not yet arrived. Only my girlfriend needed emotional help and my company so dearly sufficed.
Our shared life was peaceful and quiet, always on ourselves remaining reliant. Watching movies and later holding discussions, art always had intellectual repercussions. A movie only ended with all her questions answered, for she certainly had an inquisitive mind: a battlefield always dangerously mined. Our trips to restaurants were equally important; intimate conversations filled an air emotionally concordant. She enjoyed eating healthy foods just like myself, and valued her education above all else. Though the differences between us sometimes left me astounded, on the essential elements of life our relationship was founded. Though she had no special fondness for canines, she made a sincere effort to like my own. But despite all her caring signs, in her heart he would never find a home. In his own way he tried to warn me, but some facts of life must be learned alone. The same coldness he faced would one day to myself be known.
My relationship with her family was one of close proximity and care. Whenever I was needed no sacrifice did I spare. Her brothers had for me a sincere appreciation reciprocally shared. We often talked for hours on end during the times I visited my girlfriend. They all supported our relationship, approving the treatment awarded their sister in courtship. She could not have been in better hands, another bearing my character she never found throughout these lands. Her mother was a history teacher and whenever she had a question to ask, my assistance was always forthcoming to clarify the mysteries of the past. Her father´s silence never spoke of defiance, but of a trust that his daughter was in safe hands, my character and principles always taking the stand.
The anniversary of our relationship fell on the eighth, and celebrating this monthly occasion was an article of undying faith. Of all the gifts to celebrate our day, a golden heart locket was the one that in my heart forever stayed. It represented a heart of gold that lived twenty bold years just waiting for a soulmate to hold near. A heart that traversed a silent void separating two souls who only together found true joy. A heart that was invaluable by any measure of worth, unable to be bought or sold, belonging only to the special woman he belatedly chose. A golden heart locket given only after surrendering my own heart, which one was the most valuable was always clear to me from the start. The future would tell a different story, but not one I cared to hear. If a man sees a woman as his greatest glory, no reasonable opposing arguments should she ever fear. When my university graduation day finally arrived, a difficult choice became clear: a life in the America that had me mesmerized, or a life with the woman my heart revered. A lifetime of sacrifices hang on the balance, against a few luminous summers of endless light, but true love created a ponderous imbalance, pending the scales towards what seemed right. The rest is history as some would say, a story to be told another day, for joy speaks louder, if only for today. These words belong to a lovingly dear moment lost in time, a vivid memory of a vivid life, a vivid dream of a shared life, memories that in my heart and mind to this day still reside, finding in the simplicity of these words an eternal home to abide.