What I Would Say if You Were Still Reading

To Seoul:

Oh there are so many things to say, and so few. I miss you like hell, and I leave you messages still where you might read them and know. You were the first to show me what poly love was about. I wish I could talk to you now about how I've found my faith intact, and am happier than I ever thought possible. Your sense of boundaries and honor laid the groundwork for me, so I could learn how to live this life, and love my people with integrity and intensity. Your openness taught me that life is too short to hold back, or hesitate. I will risk. I will try. It's the only way to fly. I still walk in the rain. I still sit in the dark, and imagine. I still have a clock set to your time. I probably always will, just to remind me of the gifts you gave. You know where to find me, and I honestly believe that one day, beyond this world, we'll finally embrace. I'll be the girl puddle-jumping.

To Jester:
Yes, I know you still text me, that our distant, sporadic friendship is still intact, and I love you for that. It would have killed me to lose you completely. I am so grateful for the way you listened, you accepted the girlishness in me, and celebrated the fireflies, the special moments, the dreams and flights of fancy. You helped me to see myself in a different light, and gave me reason to believe in my own beauty, and emotion. You still have a way of reaching across the miles to let me know you're there, and with every connection I smile. I miss you like crazy. I hope you never doubt that. I'm happy about the life I have, and I'm glad you have some small part in it; we've known each other too long to walk away now. I still think of you when I grab my Burt's Bees. That damn song still catches me off guard. I still celebrate the birthday of the Marines, and I still wanna see your new tattoos. Someday, when things are different... we will do all that and more.

To No. 6:
I miss your laugh, and the way we could have marathon conversations about anything. I find myself wondering at random moments whether you joined the force, how your son is doing, whether you letterbox together. I can't go to that coffee house without thinking of Alestair Dorian. I think of you every February 3, and remember the day the Music died. I get it now, not the why, but the how, I suppose. You made the best choice, and it could not have been easy. I thought of you especially this last month when I went to Renne. I walked around all day holding hands with two lovers; you ignited the spark for that dream. When I think of you now, I smile. I whisper to the universe that I hope you are well, and your heart is filled with happiness and love. I hope you still believe in your amazing potential. I wonder if your smile reaches those striking grey eyes. I wish you every good thing, and still hope that someday you'll show up in my inbox, or on my phone. You can't blame a girl for wishing she hadn't lost her friend. Be well.

To Zephy:
I miss your poetry, your love of language, and the way you could teach me the most interesting, things with incredible insight for someone so young in the world. I miss the sound of your laughter, and your sense of humor. I think often of the woman who will become your wife, give you children, share your life. I know she's out there. I wonder if you're happy with your path, if you are proud of the man you're becoming. I wonder if you know how amazing you are. I think of you every time I hear the Beatles, and still have a soundtrack playing while I work. I learned from you that I choose to submit. I choose to honor the relationship, no matter how I feel at the time. I learned from you that there is nothing more moving than a poem spoken aloud. I learned that there's no obstacle that's not worth fighting to surmount, or tear down. I wonder if you know that you will always have a friend in me, even if you choose never to take me up on the offer. I would love to hear of your accomplishments, to celebrate them with you. I'd love to chat about language one more time. Don't ever lose that, please. Keep it safe in you. It's your strength, that passion. I know, it's mine too.

To others, and to each of these:
There are those others whose footprints I see on these pages once in a while. Each stops by silently, lingers a while, and leaves nothing but tracks. I would comment, but some things are better left unsaid. Just know I see the crumbs you leave behind. I wish you well, and even if you don't wish me the same, I can deal with that. The truth is, no matter what your wishes, I am happy, surrounded by people who love me, growing, changing and building that life we each spent so many combined hours dreaming and talking about. What I have now is beyond anything I could have imagined, and I'm working my ass off to nurture and protect it. You fill my thoughts so often, and I know I would not be who I am today without the fingerprints you each left on my heart and life. Thank you each for the part you played in making me believe it was possible, and worth fighting for. Whether you meant good or evil, I thank you. I am who I am today because of the choices I made with each of you. I'm proud of that.

I wish you well,


Ephe

Looking Glass

A year passed away, and the King took another wife. She was very beautiful, but so proud and haughty that she could not bear to be surpassed in beauty by anyone. She possessed a wonderful mirror which could answer her when she stood before it and said - "Mirror, mirror upon the wall, Who is the fairest of all?"

- Snow White, Grimm’s Fairy Tales

“Let's pretend the glass has got all soft like gauze, so that we can get through. Why, it's turning into a sort of mist now, I declare! It'll be easy enough to get through--” She was up on the chimney-piece while she said this, though she hardly knew how she had got there. And certainly the glass WAS beginning to melt away, just like a bright silvery mist. In another moment Alice was through the glass, and had jumped lightly down into the Looking-glass room. - Through the Looking Glass, by Lewis Carroll (Chapter 1)

Mirror, mirror upon the wall...

Oh, wait. Wrong fairy tale.

For some reason I identify more readily with the girl in Lewis Carroll’s tales.

“I don't understand you," said Alice. "It's dreadfully confusing!"
"That's the effect of living backwards," the Queen said kindly: "it always makes one a little giddy at first." - Through the Looking Glass, by Lewis Carroll, (Chapter 5)

You may know her best from her adventures in Wonderland, where she was curiouser and curiouser, quite imaginative, overly polite, a bit mischievous, often brave and far too gullible. In the Looking Glass story, her imagination opens the mirror over the mantle and she slips through into a backwards, opposite, nonsensical world.

I’ve been fascinated with that opposite side of a mirror for quite some time, perhaps since I was a very small girl. In the past few years, I’ve been that girl chasing the rabbit, falling down the rabbit hole, wandering in a world that was magical and unbelievable, frightening and fantastic. And in the recent months, I’ve had several magical encounters with mirrors that weeks later still hold my attention, fast.

Shepherd has been consistently good about being my mirror, he reminds me who I am and what I want, he celebrates me. Husband is beginning to be a sort of mirror for me too, he is seeing me differently, and I catch an occasional glimpse in his eyes, even the Dragonfly Girl is beginning to be a mirror for me of what it’s like for someone else to love Shepherd as I do. She loves me too, and that’s too magical for words yet. Recently we spent another weekend together, She, Shepherd and I, and at one point in the hotel room, the three of us met in crossing before the mirror, and embraced one another. The love I saw in the reflection filled me with wonder, and so many of the fears and insecurities built up over the past months melted away. In that mirror that keeps reflecting me, I see a woman who is valued, loved and wanted. I am surrounded by love, and I truly believe that feeling that love, seeing that love, trusting that love on the inside, makes me more beautiful on the outside.

There’s more though; isn’t there always?

I’m growing, changing. It’s not just about the emotional growth, though for me that’s a huge part of it lately. I am also changing as a person, in terms of what I like, what I enjoy. I recently stood before a mirror for a scene with Sir. I was restrained, I was beribboned, and I my eyes were wide with a mixture of adrenaline and wonder while he traced my flesh with the blade of a knife. I watched the light glint off of the blade in that glass reflection. I watched my breathing quicken, then stop, then spill out in a rush. I watched his hands, steady and slow, a matching glint in his eyes, and the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. I watched that same smile draw gently at my lips. It was a strange and wonderful thing to both feel our energy, and watch it reflected in the mirror, as though through an outsider’s eyes. I saw many thing that night in Sir, that did not really surprise me. I saw in him love and desire, and the hunger of the Wolf I know. I saw in me something fairly new. I’m not sure it’s a surprise, but it is a change. It’s the evidence that I’ve grown and am learning myself better. I saw a woman more comfortable in my ‘wild’ skin than I’ve ever been, more sure of what she wants, what her appetites are, and what she might want to explore in the future.

Mirror, Mirror upon the wall...

I used to avoid mirrors. I didn’t like the reflection I saw there. It confused me, it disappointed me, it didn’t fit with who or what I thought I wanted to be, needed to be, to find my happiness. But I’ve learned from the me I see reflected in the eyes of those who really see and celebrate me. I am lovely. I am alluring, attractive, and appealing. I am sexy, and good and real. Sometimes I gaze for long moments into the eyes of that pretty, awkward, giddy girl staring back at me. We share a secret, she and I. It’s there, twinkling in her eyes and tugging at the corner of her smile. Sometimes she simply nods back at me, “I know... soon.” Other times, she smirks mischievously, and crooks her finger, inviting me to escape into the magical world on her side of the glass.

There really is a wonderland, on the other side of that mirror, where this Poet is loved and celebrated for being emotional, creative, passionate and polyamorous. There is a place filled with twisted and kinky fun and incredibly spiritual and moving power-exchange. There is a family there waiting, my family who loves me, wants me, and can’t wait to see me again. And when I do escape to their world, they will play and cuddle and tease and love me. They will honor me, include me, and celebrate me. They will bundle me up in love and send me back to this world when it’s time, filled with all the memories and knowledge of their love. And they honor every part of who I am in this world, mother, wife, daughter, sister...they love the girl on both sides of the mirror.

And you know what? So do I.