There was a year that didn’t exist. A year that wasn't as she wasn't either, when she forgot how to be. Herself. Whole.
On that year that wasn't she would go down by the water and with her back to the Pacific, looking at that vast continent ahead, she would measure all its length with her heart, all the miles, one by one, until it reached another ocean… she knew only after all that land and the immensity of those cold waters of the Atlantic she could find his eyes again. The distance felt too real, too massive… overwhelmingly painful, tearing all her inside apart.
To appease her spirit she decided to drive up north on the Pacific Coast Highway and those hills and cliffs, swept by the pacific waves, made her feel the earthquakes and the landslides, all seemed like small prices to pay for the glories of living in California. There she found a place for her broken heart to be. Without excuses. That truth soothed her pain making everything else seem secondary, less important, less vital. As long as she could see that sun go down and those hills turn to gold she could feel less torn… and forget the distance and how small she was when confronting it.
She got used to her sadness and learned to love it. Alone, in the place that held her soul when she had nothing.
One summer day he came back, calm and gentle, comforting and tender. There was no urgency in his world, no rush, no roller coaster. There wasn't more than what he showed, no surprise. He seemed to have all the love and all the patience in this world… he just existed there in his own space and time, side by side with her, barely making a move and just waiting for her to notice him.
He asked her if she still believed in love and she could smile when telling him she couldn't no more… she had had her share of that self-harming madness, she told him softly. He didn't try to deny her fears nor make her speak the word she couldn't feel.
One summer day he came back, calm and gentle, comforting and tender. There was no urgency in his world, no rush, no roller coaster. There wasn't more than what he showed, no surprise. He seemed to have all the love and all the patience in this world… he just existed there in his own space and time, side by side with her, barely making a move and just waiting for her to notice him.
He asked her if she still believed in love and she could smile when telling him she couldn't no more… she had had her share of that self-harming madness, she told him softly. He didn't try to deny her fears nor make her speak the word she couldn't feel.
She fought the peace he brought as one instinctively wrestles the discomfort of all things unknown.
She wrestled alone as he stood there. Silent. Peaceful. Warm. With no judgment in his eyes nor his voice. Just patiently waiting for her to stop hiding and get back on her own path.
With his whispering voice, as not to frighten her, he lulled her to a quietness she had long lost and guided her back from war… somehow she found her way to those two arms that had been hers before… that had been hers all along.
Unexpectedly she felt something she had forgotten. It was not crazy. Not overwhelming. Not anxious. It was peace… a peace that showered her body, reaching every molecule of her being. She felt home.
He asked her again if she still believed in love. She could just smile then, with no words, as to not scare her heart.
If today was not an endless highway,
If tonight was not a crooked trail,
If tomorrow wasn't such a long time,
Then lonesome would mean nothing to you at all.
Yes, and only if my own true love was waitin',
Yes, and if I could hear her heart a-softly poundin',
Only if she was lyin' by me,
Then I'd lie in my bed once again.
Bob Dylan
