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of Glass Coming soon from Dusty Spark Publishing |
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February 27, 2013 A Painful Confession July 13, 2009 Listen! Part I May 16, 2009 Rockets/Lakers |
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February 27, 2013
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Yes, it's been three and a half years since my last blog. Slightly more, actually: three years, seven months, and a few days. And since it's been so long, my "Listen!" series is indefinately on hold. Now that I'm blogging again, I'm changing it up. No more multipart posts. If I can't get them all up at one time, I'll upload something else and keep working on it. So, nothing in the "Listen!" series, for now. Instead, I'm about to write a deeply personal blog. I've decided I need to get something off my chest, something I need to put out there. It's a deep, personal confession, and I hope nobody can relate to it. The part many people can relate to is this: For twenty-five years, I have been in love with a woman who turned me down. Now, it's not that kind of story. Getting all these dates, but the one who shoots you down is the one you don't forget. Nope. In my case, that would be every girl I was attracted to in high school. No, this one was special. I got over all the others, but something about her simply captured me, and I can't explain it to this day. Her name was Sonya. There. I said it. For the first time in the last ten years, I said it. She played soccer. The team wasn't that good, but there were so few soccer teams in Texas high schools they were considered a success. The earliest memory of her I have is of her sitting on the trainer's table after school on the first day back from Christmas break in '88. I have no idea what did it. Honestly, I'll never know. But it started right at that moment.
 Postcard made for a website I couldn't find afterward But the moment? That was one day when she was laying on her back on a table, her leg in one of the whirlpools. Nobody else was in the room at the time, and I brought her a Coke, one of those rulebreaking things I told you about. So, when I came around the corner and saw her, only seven to eight feet from me, that was when it happened. For the briefest of moments, all thought left my mind body. The only thing in me, aside from the inertia of what I was already doing, was to kiss her. It's a good thing I didn't; the school trainer--my boss, if you will--came in about two seconds later. But the feeling persisted. All a big part of me wanted was just to be with her. Another part wanted to be there to protect her from anything that might happen. A third part of me wanted to be her provider. I never thought about sex, though marriage crossed my mind for the first time in my life. Sonya turned me down all three times. Now, many guys force themselves to move on and marry someone else. Others pine, doing whatever it takes to keep from forgetting the girl they lost. In my case, I tried to forget. Many times. Hell, I've even been engaged. But something always dragged my heart back to her. In fact, when I broke up with my fiance, it wasn't just because of her. Many men can't let go of her; in my case, it was almost like she wouldn't let go of me. Or at least, the feeling wouldn't. During my engagement, we had been having major problems, the kinds that destroy relationships, and I asked for a sign from God. He gave me one hell of a sign. My fiance went in the hospital, and Sonya was her nurse. The Lord works in mysterious ways. In my case, they're usually painful, too. That was in 2000, right after The Assignment came out. Ten years after the last time I spoke to her. (Okay, I said one word to her in the hospital on my ex-fiance's behalf, but she said nothing to me.) The last time I spoke with her was after I realized the full extent of my feelings. I had left for college in another state in August of '88. In August of '90, I came back almost a thousand miles, hoping I could gain her heart. I didn't come straight out and say it, though. I wanted to know how I'd affected her, first. I wanted to make it sound like I'd made a personal revelation (which I actually had), so I tried to find out some things. As it turns out, she was working two, possibly three, jobs, so she didn't have time. I never got the answers I was looking for, and I'll probably never know what would have come of it. I know what you women out there are thinking: "He just needs closure!" No, what a man needs is fulfillment. Sadly, I don't like the things I've heard since then. All I've heard are rumors, but something about some of them has the air of truth. She was pregnant when I last spoke to her; she married for money, took him for all he's worth, and married for money a second time; she had no scruples when I knew her; she was thrown out of her home because she was caught having sex with multiple partners; she slept her way to promotions. Again, except for being thrown out of her home (for what reason, I don't know), these are all rumors. The last one can't be true; a nurse has to go through testing and certification for advancement. Honestly, I have no idea how she's doing. Indications say she's still in Houston, but things can change in a day. But still, like the meme above says, my worst fear is that I'll be the only one with the capacity to help her in her greatest time of need . . . and I won't be there. But now a greater fear has overtaken it: that this has already happened. Me? I've having to get things off my chest for the first time in twenty-five years--a chest that since I last saw her (and since my last blog) has gone through a triple bypass. A mind struck so hard, the gash in my head took two months to heal. Shoulders carrying a burden that sometimes makes it difficult to move the shoulders. Legs running in any direction they can just to do anything, one leg on a knee that gives at any real pressure, the other on a foot that cramps easily and has even throbbed in the past. The physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional torment of a love you try to let go, only to find it holding onto you. So, six weeks ago, I did the only thing I decided I had left. I accepted that I will never know true love. Why did I finally accept this? Because of the reason why I am a writer. Because It's the only thing I can make myself do. Because no matter what I make myself do, there's this voice in the back of my head saying, "Why bother if it's not for her?" This is truly how I feel. I only do two things of my own volition, and that's because I do them for her. Write . . . and wait. As a footnote, I'd like to add that there have been two others since then. The ex-fiance was just one. The other, who also turned me away (for other reasons), is the only one who ever made me forget Sonya, even for just a moment, but it was never on the same scale.
Now that this depressingly honest blog is done, I thank you for reading all the way through without thinking me a turd. If that's how you're not thinking. The blogs will resume, though irregularly, as I have a number of issues going on right now. Whatever I talk about next time, I have the feeling I'm going to be even more brutally honest. There are many things I need to get off my chest.
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