fluttering fingers and moonlight twirls…
I didn’t mean to see her so big.
Went looking for an address so i could send a letter that was for our eyes only
and, like a dream, I found her instead.
I wanted to make sure she’d heard me….to walk all the way to the edge
and lean over the side to make certain that she’d received my heart unedited.
But there she is and I cannot look away.
It’s like discovering this incredible Christmas present in the closet when I go looking for the lights.
I know it hasn’t been offered yet, but my eyes can’t keep from dancing:)
I scroll through more images, like I’m hearing her echo under years of rubble.
and my heart thumps wild hope as I dig.
The rest of the world goes quiet as I unwrap gifts – a local talkshow interview
and then another, and I’m hearing at last the music of her voice.
The moving water of my children all together laughing is my favorite sound;
now hers is flowing across my ears and I throw back my head and join every glad noise
in the universe, belting out thanks for the wild beauty of this thing.
There is a timbre that siblings share, like the voice of rippling waters.
The river just got wider and my heart stretches with the sound.
I watch her mannerisms, mesmerized, matching every nod and tilt and gesture,
all so famliar – I know this rhythm.
I need to grab somebody’s arm and say, “look!” – to share the wow of this discovery
but my feet are planted where they stand,
wilding over the beauty – her intelligence and humor and heart..
What she’s building in this world is just so cool and I’m grooving to her words,
powerful and clear, even as she explains, “I’m adopted,”
and I take in the way a shadow passes over the light in her eyes when she says it,
the way mine do when I’m feeling hard or pain
and my hand floats unthinking to the face on screen. Am I seeing anger?
Is that grief? Shame? Or do I only imagine – just my fear on the screen.
Oh baby girl.
“Please talk to me,” I ache.
Facebook.
Do I even dare?
I’m standing in front of her profile picture
and the long road I’ve traveled seems to end right here.
I squeeze my eyes to hush the “don’t you even.”
My fingers flutter above the friend request key.
No. Stop. Too much. Is it? It’s an invitation, right? Or is it barging in.
Will she welcome this discovery or feel it intrusive?
I don’t know.
I don’t know so hard it hurts.
Instead, I keep my hand over my heart
and let my eyes wander through her posts and pictures and perspectives,
savoring each one as I go, like picking up feathers and leaves in the park.
I’d choose to hang out with this woman.
Like all of my kids, this is someone I enjoy.
I can’t dig any deeper and not say something…..it feels stalker-ish.
And disingenuous. I need to brave up and tell her.
I hit the message box on her profile and the daunting blank canvas pops up on my screen.
What do I even say?
I want Amanda to know that I found her and I’m here,
– just a few pecks of the keys away – want to connect?
And if she doesn’t want, or doesn’t want now, I promise not to push.
If I don’t hear back, I won’t withdraw my love. I’m in either way.
I tug the message into words and my finger stalls on “send,”
my heart a jumble of joy and yes and please and oh shit.
I can’t do this. Yes you can. Go. Just go – I mash the button quick to send.
When at last I get around to checking addresses that night, I’m spent,
so it doesn’t bowl me over right away the several years she spent living in my city,
leaving just before we arrived.
Tomorrow I’ll go see, I sigh as I finally nod off, drained by the electricity of the day.
Like a kid after too much Christmas.
A few hours later, I pop up with a start – Instagram! I totally forgot to check….
I trot down the hall to my computer and there she is again -too beautiful for words.
I linger for a while, so punch drunk in love that I can hardly send my silly self back to bed.
One more quick check – facebook, did she answer back?
Not yet. Okay. It’s okay. She’s on the west coast right now – time difference and all that.
I sit for a minute and hold the sheer awesomeness of even knowing this now,
my soul twirling grateful in the moonlight.
I’m guessing tomorrow, then. When she’s had time to digest.
And as sleep sweeps me up at last, I’m smiling still.
“When you get right down to it, Lily, that is the only purpose grand enough
for a human life. Not just to love, but to persist in love.”
– Sue Monk Kidd
(The Secret Life of Bees)
I’m seven weeks into this Summer series and I love that you’re here.
Thanks for hearing and holding the pain of my story with such balmy care;
If it doesn’t shine through the ripples yet, I’ll write it more clear around the bend,
the peace that’s holding me and the squeeze of Love’s hand.
Oh dearheart.
My heart is flutterings, stuttering as I read your pain, your hope, your excitement, your longing, your love…
You can’t imagine how much I appreciate, Sue.
Just so very, very much:)
-Jennifer
All of these emotions…I read every word with anticipation…
I really appreciate, Robin. It’s joy to know that you’re there:)
-Jennifer
Wow, what a story you tell with such finesse. This is truly getting exciting. You have left no stones unturned and you’re getting so close. I’m getting goose-bums. I’m waiting for what’s to come around the bend…
Hugs,
JB
I love story. It’s how I think and learn. I’m grateful to get to tell in such a gentle-listener way.
I appreciate you holding it so kindly, Julia. Much thanks.
-Jennifer
It’s now my favorite book, one chapter at a time, slowing savoring every love letter…
Kathy:) There you go again, making my heart grin so wide it’s goofy and light and feeling freer;)
Thanks, you. I really appreciate:)
-Jennifer
I’ll be so brokenhearted if your saga, at some point, does not resolve with a reconciliation…so invested in the unique emotional turmoil of this longing.
unique emotional turmoil – thank you for getting that, Lisa:) Seriously. I hear your listen and it comforts me big.
Thanks for sharing the road this Summer-I’m rich to have you along.
-Jennifer
I love reading your story! I just wish it could appear even faster! Thank you so much for sharing this with us. I realized that I needed to let you know that I am reading and sympathizing and getting excited and waiting for the next installment right along with you. You are brave and wonderful and a beautiful soul!
Hi Linda – so good to have you along:) Love your John Denver love;)
I appreciate you sharing the road (….lead me home) I know:)
Thanks for your kind words,
Jennifer
You know that I am here, savoring every word! Much love to you, Sweet Soul!
Your here-ness is pure gift to me and I know it, Jane.
Thanks more than you know,
Jennifer
Fluttering heart and wide grin! 😙
Always I have loved your grin:) Thanks for coming along, Pad. Always the best adventure buddy:)
-Jennifer
“like the voice of rippling waters”, so perfect … I don’t want this story to end, yes I do but I will still want to keep coming back to savor all this goodness. I feel so blessed that you trusted enough to share here.
You’re the gift – your generous listen is love to me. Feels like I’m springing free some chains
as I wrestle through each week. It’s an honor to have you along – big thanks:)
-Jennifer
Jennifer, You are full of love…and one day she will know how fully loved she has always been. Keep writing, my friend! 💖
Thanks for being you, Karen; your shoulder and smile mean the world to me.
I so appreciate – really i do:)
-Jennifer
I can only imagine the tidal wave of emotions that hit you when you first saw images of her and heard her voice. I’m glad you hit ‘send’. xoxoxo
Maybe when it’s love and letting go, “send” is always the best button:) I don’t know.
But I sure appreciate you sharing the bumpy road.
Your presence here is such a gift, Barbara:)
-Jennifer