Quiet. Contemplative. Retreating back into my single space for one and a small, golden-haired half. The happy, glowing bubble in which we stood to hold our conversation seems barely credible today. Did it happen like that, I want to ask?
But it was important. It was momentous! The lovely youngish man I met yesterday re-introduced me to possibility: to connection: to love.
Often in recent years I have looked at what I assumed to be the mountain I would have to scale even to put myself into an available space and dismissed it as unthinkable. I began to feel older, really so much older, and with sadness I recognised that the Bim had taken something intangible but necessary from me where relationships with men are concerned. Something in me shrank so small when I was lied to so many times by the person in whom I had placed my trust.
So yesterday was joyous because suddenly I understood that almost without noticing it I have moved away from that position, and there wasn't a mountain to climb at all! Instead, there was a clear flat open plain with a beautiful horizon to navigate, and all I had to do was decide to step onto it, which I did, when I persuaded myself to enter the gallery alone.
It is possible I may never see the lovely youngish man again. It would be a shame that the obvious connection we both felt would not be explored, but it would not be a tragedy.
Loving another person is such a brave thing to decide to do. Yesterday evening, for the first time in almost a decade, I was allowed to remember how the very first steps to that decision feel. What I was reminded is that sometimes you don't have to spend an ounce of energy making the decision at all. Sometimes, if you simply choose to take it, the way is clear.
I began to believe, then. That love... is a possibility.