Another day “without” love.
“I love you.” The first person I said that to was Lynn Willingdon, my classmate in grade six at Ridgeview Elementary School in West Vancouver. We were in grade six; it was 1957 and the words came out of my mouth uncensored and unexpected. I had, until then, never said those words to either of my parents, nor had I ever felt the emotion for them.
I believed I loved Lynn. It was the first time I had felt the longed-for emotion that I so longed to feel. That’s why I remember it so well.
I did really feel love/deep trust again until sometime around the turn of the century when I was in India travelling with Steve. He and I had been partners for fourteen years and apart for almost a decade when he came to visit me in India. And one day as he walked down to the beach from our cabin in the sunshine I felt it again. I will never forget that moment either. I am grateful for those moments now.
I believe the loveless trustless life I lived with my parents set the course of my love life. I don’t “blame” them for the largely loveless life I have lived. I see our past as the way it was, that’s all. They were well into their story when they adopted me, living their destinies.
But I have always found in my past an explanation for my present and I have never lost a sense that life would have been easier with a co-pilot.
Now I cannot imagine life with someone. Instead I emotionally feast on the platonic loves and the glorious sensate thrills of my life.
|My hometown taken from up Grouse Mountain|
where I spent a lot of time as a kid.