Thursday, January 26, 2017

Lucky Number 13

It seems only fitting with the Chinese New Year ushering us from sly, trickster Monkey to organized, and grounded Rooster that I find myself at the same time reflecting on moments from my past spent with my stubborn, and impulsive monkey-twin.
2001: Don't hug me. I tickle.  You won't escape.
I also came to the harsh realization during my January fresh-start-purge, where I tear through the house like a Tasmanian devil throwing out everything that is no longer serving me, that this is the only photograph I have with my dearest friend -- something I can only allow myself to be partially regretful about, because it means that we were always too busy in each other's company that we simply didn't have time to give a single thought to a camera let alone be bothered pulling one out to preen and pose in front of.  There is something, however, that gets me a little downhearted knowing that all of that time spent together, and all of those shared secrets over 2 A.M. long-distance gossip sessions is now condensed into a two-inch-by-three-inch creased, and fading memento.  I suppose that is the natural order of things; ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and all that, but I find myself unwilling to give up the ghost (pun very much intended) just yet. 

With that, I found myself reaching for the scanner to preserve the moment beginning to slip from its thin, glossy, 2D time capsule just a bit longer.  No need to pull out the Kansas records, and broom & dust pan just yet, especially now that the pain has finally subsided.  I can look back fondly at what was, and no longer with that dull ache enduringly in my heart, no longer willing myself to forget in order to ignore the cavernous void his absence left in my life. I can now carry in my heart - in the giant space where the pain once lived, the man who believed I was pure magic, and capable of unimaginable feats.

Life is a funny thing with its cycles, and signposts, and symbols.  Some people have numbers (13, 303, 429) lucky or otherwise guiding or following them, sometimes adding comfort in new situations.  I, however, am not so much a numbers girl, instead, I seem to have repeating Richards -- each one leading me to the next in ways that could only be described as cosmic.  I'm not exactly sure why this is the case (and I'm sure there's an obvious joke to be made here), but what I do know for sure is that individually they have all taught me something new about my strength, and resilience, and have afforded me the opportunity to see myself through different eyes, and challenge, or embrace what I find through this new point of view.  For that, I can't be anything but grateful, and appreciative.