Sun Year, Moon Year, and Me

The sun and moon fight above me.

One circles me while I circle the other.

And they disagree about time and space and light and make me wonder which of them is right.

I was born after the stars had come out and the fires burned. The moon, just beginning to cycle back down in size, claimed me on that day. The sun, having already done its job, nodded once and stamped me into the time it keeps.

And so I was born twice.

The moon years are special because they exist only for those who look towards the sky and bless the shimmering silver and mark their lives to the rise and fall of tides that flow over them with every persecution and triumph and history repeating itself while the rest of the world continues to focus on the blinding, waning beams of sunshine.

But the days of the sun make the world go round and round again.

I want the sun to mark me, burn me, make me feel like I am only one little dot across the horizon.

One little dot is not special or bound or lit up from behind. It does not place itself disproportionate to its size, does not pull at the waters and force my gaze.

But I was born under the moon and the fires burned for a man who brought light to a world that was already full of sun.

This day begins as the sun goes down and the moon appears where it has always been. Take away the light to see the beauty in the darkness… take away my life to find where I’ve been hiding… take away the night and let me have the morning…

To wake up and see… see what I have been missing while the moon circled above me and the sun moved on without me…

I was born, and so I became and the time that passed fell away and now the night will fall and make my moon year complete.

I will be older and never wiser and always wondering why the sun and the moon could not dance together, even for a day.

How I Say I Love You

“What – you love each other?” she asks, catching us in an easy embrace.

We share a smile as I lift my head off your chest and answer her with a slight nod.

“Ok” is the only thing she cares to say as she scampers off with her brother, leaving us relaxing comfortably together in the Sukkah.

But I’m not able to casually stroll on as the weight of those words reverberate through my ears, ringing memory bells in a glorious symphony of cherished emotions.

And so I write as my heart fills with the old feelings of new love and my soul wraps the fragile little me up and gifts her to you as a symbol of the kind of trust only you can understand.

The memories…the things I try to talk about all the time…to keep at the forefront…they are not in the past as we live out our days.  They are here, with me, in my now with you…because they keep me from getting lost in the safety of secured love and forgetting what you mean to me.

Remember…we were on the swing, the one we used to go to when we wanted to run away from everyone…and I stroked your hair and realized I loved you.  So I said it.  I think I love you.  But the wind took my whisper and blew it away from your ears and you turned to me and asked me what time it was.

Remember…when you gave me your necklace and promised you would be back…and I loved you so much that I wanted to get down on one knee and propose to you, and beg you to take me with you…but I didn’t know how to do that or how to say that so I said I think I’m falling in love with you.

Remember….when you called and I was crying and needed you…and I loved you so much I wanted to scream out how I couldn’t live without you but the words got lost somewhere from my head to my mouth and I said It would be nice not to have to cry to you over the phone.

Remember…when it got too much for me to handle and I needed you to know and I couldn’t be afraid anymore to tell you how I felt because if you didn’t love me there was no use living anyway and if you did love me I would be able to start living again…so I sent you a three page e-mail explaining how hard it is for me to trust people and all the different levels of trust and then at the end wrote I can say I love you because I trust you.

I cried all that day because I sent that off and I hadn’t even written the words.  I had only written about the words…and explained the words…but I thought maybe you still wouldn’t know.

And remember…you called…and you said I love you too…and I…have never…been…the same.

Happy birthday my love, my life, my darling.

I love you.