Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Lost Childhood and Other Musings

Dear Darling,

1) There she was again. Friend-zone.

I’ve spent a few weekends looking to see if I might spot her in the crowd, even though I didn’t want to see her. Talk about a complicated emotion. She was among the group of friends that are gradually becoming my friends as well. In fact if memory serves she helped introduce me. And she was sitting with her boyfriend. Ah, so that’s the idiot. He doesn’t look like much. A friend tells me he lives Florida…how is that working out? I shook her hand and congratulated her on finishing the same program which I just began. She squeezed back and smiled elegantly, making perfect conversation as if it wasn’t at all awkward that I’d expressed a definitive attraction and desire to know her better and which she rebuffed.

She didn’t ask about me, but that’s okay, most people don’t. Then she walked away, with him. I walked the other way, fiercely ordering my heart to settle down.

Where does this stupid feeling of attraction and attachment come from? It’s sudden and strong, and abhorrent in its severity. Have you ever spent your whole life becoming something worthwhile, only to be rejected? There’s a sense of anger that comes with it. I don’t give my attentions lightly, and yet they were spurned so heavily.

It’s not like I can’t handle rejection. Heaven knows…! I’ve done my share, as gently as possible. I guess I just wrestle with this concept of killing an involuntary emotion, a desire to be with someone that can’t ever be. Only felt it once or twice in my life, and I hope to heaven that same feeling can be fulfilled by finding you.

Moving on.

2) My visit with my friend yesterday went fine. We had a surprisingly frank conversation, but only about her medical diagnosis. Training in the medical field has made me somewhat immune to shame regarding women’s health…an unwilling social superpower. She didn’t ask about me, but that’s to be expected. People in the hospital become selfish and self-oriented, and rightly so.

I think my gifts went over well. I gave her cocoa butter lotion (“to remind you to take care of yourself”) a deck of cards (“so you have something to do while you’re laid up”) a keychain flashlight (“so you’ll always have something to light your way”) and a small lion statue (“to remember to fight like a lion.”) Naturally, no good deed goes unpunished, I was late for work. But hopefully I was the hand and the voice of Jesus, and that is all anyone can hope to accomplish.

3) Ahh, darling, all I wanted to do was talk with you tonight. I reached the end of yet another day, and I had no one to call. I just need someone to talk to, with no distance, no secrets, no reservations, no fear of being absolutely open, knowing you will listen and love and not question. I’m done with my final exams and I have time now, and no one special to spend it with. I’ve got songs to sing and places to go and food to eat, and I want to do it with you. I want to banish this forlorn letter-writing habit of mine and start having fun with you. I guess you get tired of hearing that, huh?

4) What do you suppose they mean when they talk about lost childhood? I’ve heard the term several times, and I don’t know if it means a childhood that never was, or a childhood they enjoyed which was lost when they grew up. Me, I miss the childhood I grew out of. I didn’t know how good I had it, and like any small boy, I couldn’t wait to grow up. Now I’m here. I’ve got jobs and bills and school, and I want to go back to those simple days, just like any adult does. I’m not sure if there’s a little bit of magic in the newness of being grown-up (or at least playing at it) that the old magic of Christmas loses its meaning, or if the magic itself goes away. I’ve developed this ability to deflect or absorb trouble and sadness and pain without internalizing it. Maybe in losing degrees of capacity for sadness, I’ve lost degrees of capacity for happiness as well.

5) You might get to see your Beren on national prime time television in the next week or so. I’d tell you where, but it’s not assured and I’d hate to be revealed before my time to the few other handsome pairs of eyes scanning these pages.

6) Time for bed, love. Write me a letter of your own tonight, won’t you?

What wonders a kiss goodnight would do for me right now…

Love ever,

December 17, 2012 Posted by | Sundry Thoughts | Leave a comment