|
daxle
|
The first night of the new year, I felt itchy and drew myself an oatmeal bath. The itching was inside my skin and it didn't help much. It was rainy soppy cold outside, and I imagined him out there, all on his own. Such trials to keep him here and something kept sending him back there. I started thinking it was just meant to be that way.
But I made a promise to take him in and take care of him. You don't break promises like that. So I jumped out and dried off, threw on some clothes. It occured to me on my way that nothing I was wearing was newer than 3 years old.
I burbled a plan. I didn't want to bind him against his will but I did want to summon all of my intentions and energy as my last overture.
So I brought him an offering, and as he partook of it, I talked to him softly. I told him how I missed him, and that I knew how he felt. I promised him the sort of life he desired if he would just give up that ghost of a place, ghost of a life.
When he was through I asked him to come to me. Tentatively, he did, and I scooped him up.
It's been completely different since he's been back, amazingly. He seems to be at peace, without a desire to escape again. In turn, I am at peace. Our moments together often leave me ecstatic.
|
050109
|
