1983 was a good year . . .
where have I been? I want to say "How does this happen? How do we drift so far apart?" but I know. And I know it doesn't matter. Trust me when I say it's difficult watching them get older and fall apart. Something you will get to see with your Dad. It's so weird - probably only to me - you being an oldest, and me a youngest. Maybe that's why you always treated me so good. Anyway, the reason I wasn't there was because I didn't know. And I'm sorry for both.
and the only reason I know her name (that middle sis that got moved aside) is that I found it at intellius a year or so ago. But there she was, right in my dream. No idea why my subconscius decided to produce her for me that night . . . nor do I remember now what either of us did or said.
But I know she was there to tell me something about you, or for you. And yes, I know it was my desperate heart concocting. But please send her back:)
two hours of driving and I think I realize she could have been the best boost to my self confidence. . .and that with not even a kiss! Hell, we were what? 15?? Don't know. Doesn't matter. And if you're wondering, just picture a younger Kim Bassinger . . .'cept she was that gorgeous with no pit-crew!!
I still remember the first time I actually talked to her, face-to-face. If my 40-sumpin' heart jumped that way again today, It would stop beating. I know it.
Anyway, two things were sure. First, I knew she was WAY outa' my league. Second, and most absurd, she didn't 'know' she was DDG. But then, 'that day'. I was gone. Not enough confidence yet to realize that there were many women out there that would. Not just my wife-to-be. TO-BE. Hello?!! Hell freakin-lo?!!! THAT was the time to see. THAT was the time to find out why she said what she did to my sister. That was when she lived less than an hour away. NOT today, when she lives in Florida. With a husband that has my first name. Probably happy. Why would I take that from her. Hell, I wouldn't. But I'm just saying. . . .
And so it took a few years of marriage wrecking extracurriculars to get that coveted self confidence. And if I'd been paying attention, she had it right there in the palm of her hand, And she held that palm out to me. She - nicely - moved aside her little sis and her friends to offer that to me.
But face-to-face was all we had. That was the days before cell phones (perish the thought!!) That was the days before Vox, MySpace, chat, email and even the Internet. Now, with all these electronic toys, I can find her in a matter of minutes. I can call her, I DID call her.
So now that the cycle of self-confidence has come. . .and gone . . . what does it leave? Before, before, BeFore . . .why not? Why CAN'T we go back? It is so cool to actually respect her today. Damn zippers, they should come with locks.
And now it drives my head crazy, because I can't remember when. . . when was it that I yelled to her on that dark street and she ran inside? No, I know she didn't know who it was that yelled out her name. No more than I know who it was that was with her when she ran inside her parents house that night. But I still worry, some 25 years later. What was she running from? Was she okay? IS she okay?
Was that before or after that question to my sister? Because if it was before . . . I must be as stupid as I imagine. Does she have any idea how she affected me?
STG, I'm not re-kindling, I just wanna know she is okay. And just by saying "hello" - and actually telling her who it is saying so this time - I'd never know if she really is okay. How does that saying go? You can't objectivly observe something because just by observing something you influence its outcome, or something like that.
Where does it start? Where does it end? To know the ending without arriving, requires study of the begining. Which is made easier in this case because it's beginning again. And this time, I'm determined to finish.
