Love’s Revolution

Occasionally in life, a relationship comes along that is like a revolution, an unforgettable turning point. For some lucky ones, chaos can settle and deepen into lifelong union. For others, the heat of passion is scorched into the soul, and while future relationships promise a more sensible life, the memory burns with a power that is perhaps never truly extinguished.

Michael and I were the same and we were opposites - it was our differences that held us in thrall. This relationship was a revolution.

I was as wounded emotionally as he was sexually, and our coming together felt like broken shards had finally been glued back in place so we could drink from the same cup.

It was a year that exploded through my life, upending every thing. A year that ran on the rails of love, a big dipper of out-of-control emotions that I welcomed, eager to be both terrified and exhilarated by the lunacy. I understood that to love Michael was a dangerous and probably foolhardy proposition. But I had a heart bursting at the seams.

‘I’m not a person offering any long-term safety or security,’ he would warn, ‘but I am a safe person to open your heart to.’

That was enough for me, and I breathed out, laying my whole sorry bundle before him, feeling wild enough to take a chance and wildly grateful to be given it. I thought myself brave in taking the risk to love, but truth was, love crept up on me like a stalker. Before I knew it, I was in its lair, a willing, confused, joyous victim.

And I believed in love’s power, that if two people loved each other enough, it would carry them over all obstacles.

Photo of Vanessa, Layla and MIchaelWhen I look back at that time, I sometimes question my judgment. What if, accepting he was not available for committed union and children, I had called a halt right then and there, found the solid man and issued progeny from behind a picket fence? But even in my darkest time, I don’t regret meeting Michael and I can’t find it within myself to regret even a moment of the time we spent together. Because finally the tough, funny, brittle shell could be peeled away. I wanted my heart back, and if it meant risking everything, then bugger the consequences. What I didn’t know was that I would one day have to pay. And, of course, so would he.

The Thin Pink Line


Journal - October 2000

Soiled Blessings

Commemorating Loss