my careless contagion

The Love of My Life is a lovely book by British author Rosie Walsh. The Brits do some good writing, I must say, though I'm mostly familiar with classic English literature, the kind that makes you want to go for a walk on the heath or throw yourself off a chalk cliff. I wonder how many people who read romance novels realize the idea of romantic love is a relatively new construct. In fact, romance novels did much to popularize it. There is some argument, of course, but historians generally agree marrying for love is a new concept and not a base instinct. Romantic love, as we call it, lasts no longer than 3 years. No wonder so many marriages fail. True, love is just a choice we make, otherwise the Bible wouldn't tell us to love one another or for husbands to love their wives, etc. It's a choice. But, for most, they need the feeling of falling in love first. That chemical bond is necessary. Hormones. Attraction. A woman knows within seconds if she wants to make love to a man. M...

I spent a lot of time on this blog giving space to my own words. Today is different. Today I got the following in my inbox. I publish it here because I can't form my own words. I am beyond devastated. I replied to it, of course, but that was for me. Now this is for her. This is what Cindy wrote to me last night, which I read this morning. The above photo is one of my favorites. Maybe that's her now, finally at peace about me. Free. I hope so.  *** Hi Joshua, I don't know how to put everything into words that I've been processing in my mind for the last few weeks, but I'm going to do it as clearly as I can. My cousin said something last week that really brought some clarity to my situation with you and me. She was talking about how she was so undecided when her now-husband was pursuing her. She would be all in with him and then pull back and go through that cycle over and over again. Sound familiar? She recounted the story in Mark 11, when the Pharisees were asking J...

Unexpectedly, she came back into my life. There she was, at my door, and I welcomed her in. We talked. My heart throbbed with excitement. There she is, Joshua, the one you love! Right in front of you!  Being with her felt natural, like she'd always been there, like she would always be there. Like a part of me was returned or made whole. She just made sense. My favorite memories with her were simple ones: walking, talking, sometimes with Brutus  (the cheagle) and my son. There was the walk we took one summer day at a recreation area outside town. It felt like the rightest thing in the world to be with her.  It may sound strange, what I'm about to say, but it's true. I love the arrangement of her features. Her face and all its parts. Her body and how it's put together. I can't see inside, but I saw the outworking of its parts, and she is as beautiful inside as out. Her heart is my favorite feature.  The heart of that woman is precious. She displays a humility before t...

Now for some real music! Haha, okay, what is a guy who grew up on hardcore posting a euro-dance hit from the 90s? Because it's awesome!  (The kids say it slaps.) I would flip back and forth on the radio between alternative and dance in the 90s. A lot of kids were into one or the other, but I craved all of it. I love music, and this song is still a favorite. It may not be the best Real McCoy had to offer, but we all heard this back in the day and danced a little in our econobox cars on our way to the future. And here we are in the future. Some of us still remember what life was like back then. Are we where we thought we'd be all these years later?  Honestly, I didn't think I'd make it this far. Thought I would be dead. No joke. Having the opinion of a foreshortened future is a symptom of PTSD gained from childhood trauma/abuse, which I endured. Common with everyone who endured longterm trauma. So, I can't complain. Pay stubs and bandaids. Paying bills and doing dishe...

Holiday Road is synonymous with the National Lampoon movies, as it was was created for the original film's soundtrack and ended up on the rest. I recall watching the original couple movies as a kid. They were a bit raunchy, but I'm sure some of that was edited out, as we watched on network TV. I wouldn't let my kid watch them today. How times change.  No one cared what we did back then. Maybe should just speak for myself. Did anyone even know what we were doing? Generation X is sort of the lost generation, sons and daughters of Baby Boomers who were busy enjoying their lives and ignoring the fact they had kids. I was a latch-key kid, independent and resourceful. As I got older, I realized I missed out on a lot by being raised that way. How would I have turned out had I had a loving, tight family instead of being raised by wolves?  It's not that my family didn't love me, it's just that they erased that love with their harsh words and behavior. I am a strong perso...

Thank you, Lord, for these moments with her. Holding her hand in the theater and fighting back tears of happiness because this is what I always wanted. Here she was, and sitting next to me as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Thank you for letting me see her heart and to understand, at least in part, such a beautiful soul — a special soul that knows no equal. I get to hear what's in her heart, her mind, and to see your imprint on her. It's all over her, in, and through her.  Thank you for letting me be something in her life. Just to be here is a miracle for which I am beyond grateful. She makes me incredibly happy, and I can't help but see her as a gift. I get to enjoy her, feel her warmth radiating next to me, revel in the scent of her skin, and bask in her laughter. And what beautiful laughter! I'm in love with the sound of her voice. I don't think there's a single thing about her I haven't fallen in love with. The sum total of her is probably more...

In my world, this song always existed. Indeed, it was released in 1977, the year I was born. It was covered numerous times, including by NOFX (about two minutes in length, complete with the expected punk-rock irreverence, and with some vocals by Bad Religion's Greg Graffin). It's a good song and robust, having survived several decades. I guess I could say some of the same about myself since we're the same age. It's one of those songs that builds momentum. It starts fairly quiet and slow but eventually takes off like a jet plane. It has a fairly fast tempo for a classic rock song. The song has so much momentum, it simply fades out at the end, which is the easiest way to end a song like this. The cover art is curious, especially if your eyes are drawn to the dangly bits of the man's outfit. I wonder whose idea that was.  The vocals are perfect. I don't even know how he does some parts. The yelping inflection on "go" and "your" gets me every ti...

Thinking about this space where I spent so much time and expended so much mental and emotional energy, I can't help but liken it to something. I wrote an awful lot about a girl here. I was quite taken with her. I fell in love with her, and that love burst forth on these pages, year after year. I am still in love with her, though I know her differently now.  I wrote, not knowing whether she ever saw a word. I believed she did, and that's why I continued to write for so many years. This was my message in a bottle.  With a message in a bottle, we're never sure if it reaches its intended destination, if the one person in the world we want to read it actually does. I never knew. Did she ever feel those things I felt for her? Did she know how much I truly loved her? Did she read once or a hundred times or not at all? Did it make any difference what I said or didn't say? The hours I spent crafting my words, did it change anything? Did it make her bad days more tolerable? Were ...

There's something about her. I can't always put my finger on it. Sometimes I can name it. Sometimes not. It just melts me. Every time. Listen, I'm a man. Been through hard things. Hard times. Endure hard things every day. Wade through pain and frustrations that would make many crack. Sometimes I feel like cracking, too. Sometimes I have to pray hard and fast through strangled tears just to make it through. I've worked more years than those I work with have been alive. I'm tough. Rough around the edges. Stoic and brutish and sometimes cynical and hard. But there is something about that woman that melts me. Every time. All that shellac and veneer. All that painstaking patina. Gone when she's near. She has no idea, I'm sure. I become soft as a baby around her. My heart beats stronger. My mind is set ablaze. The shrapnel in my flesh doesn't hurt. Tiredness in my bones doesn't intrude. I become gooey in her presence. Like clay in her hands. The best parts...

I don't know if she still reads here. I don't know if she thinks about me much anymore. I really don't know much, but I know she means the world to me. I see her trying. She's afraid. She's holding on to what she knows. She's afraid of what she doesn't know. I wish it was easier. Someday it will be. I know she'll be okay. I know because my Father told me.  When someone has been through hell in a relationship, they don't have the same fire to begin again. The fire is gone, but the need for love remains. The struggle of that person is a spectacular thing. It is a precious fight for sanity and safety and to not lose oneself in love. I want her to know it will be okay. We will both be okay. Because neither of us are in control. There is One who is in control, and He knows our struggles. He sees every tear and frustration, every moment of terror. Every fear. Every time we look in the mirror and wonder if they see what we see. Every moment we see that slip...

Can we try? Can we wade into this together, holding on to one another? This is such a beautiful thing. Please don't worry. Let's enjoy the journey. We don't have to see the whole way. We can trade knowing the future for knowing we're in this together. You and me and yours and mine. Let's do it. Let this thing we don't know what to do with grow from uncertainty to something we can't imagine living without. Please take my hand. I don't want to do this with anyone else.  This thing. It grows. It can take over our hearts silently. We wake and feel something undeniable blossoming within. Let's do this together and call it what we want. No one says it has to look a certain way or progress along a certain path. It's ours. We can take our time. We can press pause. We can jump ahead. Just as long as we do it together. We can meet. Talk. Lay in silence, you in my arms, and me keeping time to the sound of your gentle breathing and the sweet rhythm of your h...