Her story so far

She picked up her piece of paper and pen, and began to write.
She wrote to express her flamboyant emotional state in outward
form. She wrote to get out what she could not keep in. This
was her overture, her symphony, her creative ramblings turned
poignant expression, a masterpiece never to be shared. This
was her story.

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She was never a dull child, a trait which followed her into
adulthood with wild emotion and reckless abandon. Rules never
applied to her, and her streak of rebellion was always the
bane of her parents' existence. Her mother tried her best to raise
a lady, but her father raised a woman who drove too fast
and drank her whiskey straight, no chaser. She wielded her
intelligence like a weapon, always at the ready. No stranger to pain
and adversity, she was quick on the draw and unapologetic about it. Love was
something to be admired, but from afar and with great armor.

It happened one day, however, that she fell victim to love's
curse. It also happened that she dragged herself from the edge
of insanity caused by extreme heartbreak after a failed marriage,
13 years and 3 children later. At that moment, she vowed that she
would never be deceived again by the snare of the emotional mind.
A heart, after all, was merely an organ to pump blood to the body.
At least, that's what she told herself after hers had been
shattered to smithereens.

She had given him everything that she had: heart, mind, body, soul,
her future, her presence, her hopes and dreams... She surrendered
to that love with every single piece of herself. She devoted
herself to making him happy. Even when they quarelled, she still
kept his best interests at the forefront of her mind. He abused
and exploited her giving and trusting nature time and again, and
yet still she hung on with everything she had. She fought to the
bitter end and eventually walked away knowing that she had done
all that she could. It wasn't until many months later, after sowing
wild oats and finding that he preferred the pastures that had
already belonged to him, that he came rushing back, begging
forgiveness. It was too late for her. She had already said her
goodbye, and so she left him standing at her doorstep with
pleading eyes, and closed the door on him forever. After that, she
resigned herself to knowing that she'd had her shot at true love
and would never love like that again, for she had no more of
herself to give.

She decided that she was not going to let wrath and scorn overtake
her, so she dedicated herself to her children and to work. She
never gave in to the calling of other men, enticing
her to use them as a rebound affair. Her friends said, "The only
way to get over a man is to get under a new one.", but she scoffed
at them, shaking her head in absurd disbelief. Didn't they
understand the depth of the love she had shared with her husband?
Did they not grasp that her heart had been shattered into
thousands of tiny fragments and left all over her living room
floor the night that she had found him in all of his
unfaithfulness? They did not understand that she could never love
another, and that she could never give her body to one whom she
did not love. No matter, she thought. Some are unable to ever love
that deeply and so she could not expect them to make sense of it.

Her days carried on, each one bringing more healing until time
finally worked its magic. Eventually, he stopped taking up
every thought in her waking mind. Soon after that, she realized
that she had gone through the stages of grief triumphantly and
declared to herself that she had finally reached the stage of
blessed acceptance! She smiled to herself, sighed a deep breath of
relief, picked up the dirty dishes from the table, and moved
forward with her life.

Now, imagine her shock when she was once again caught up in the
emotional disarray of the magnetic pull of a man who was all
kinds of wrong for her, but in all the right ways. He was not
someone who would normally catch her eye. His manner was
respectful in a southern gentleman kind of way, but he had the
southern knack for saying something in such a way that might
leave you wondering if you've just been complimented or insulted.
He was just as opinionated as she, but with far less concern for
the social impact of speaking without reserve. He was not afraid
of her honest and bold manner, and that fact was both infuriating
and intriguing at the same time. She often caught herself
thinking that he was like looking into a mirror and seeing the
other half of oneself in a whole form. All signs pointed to this
being a tragic love story, for there could be no other kind. She
secretly hoped that the other kind existed, but with a lot of
skepticism.

He called her beautiful and said all the right things, but she
was not at all drawn in by such words. Compliments from men were
a dime a dozen and they had little impact on her. In fact, she was
unable to put into words exactly what it was about this man that
got her attention. He was the fresh ocean breeze that whipped her
hair about her face and left her flushed but energized. He was
delicious succulent red wine and the scent of leather and cherry
wood. He held her just close enough to keep her near but not so
close that she lost her sense of freedom. He was the promise that
this was her happily ever after, her once in a lifetime soul level
connection. She was terrified by his hold on her, and that left her
with an overwhelming feeling that she should run away more often than not.

This went far deeper than anything she had experienced before,
including her marriage to the man that she once thought was her soul mate.
This was something else altogether. There was an invisible cord of
connection to this man. He knew her intimately, in the sense of
seemingly being able to see right to the depths of her soul. He
sensed from afar what she was feeling and thinking, and he knew
things about her that she had never spoken out loud. She was
beginning to suspect that perhaps her marriage had only been a
means of preparing her for what this love was about to bring. In
fact, she was certain that all the events of her past were merely
training tools for this event, this love, this...there are no words
to accurately describe what 'this' was.

And so it began, the chase and the catch. It was akin to watching
a fisherman trying to reel in the catch of a lifetime.
It was a slow process, as a good fisherman knows that patience is
the key to a good day of fishing. You have me hooked, she thought,
so either reel me in or cut me loose. What she couldn't seem to
understand, however, was that if she just waited patiently and let
herself be pulled to shore, the struggle would be over. Of course,
for her to give in and let herself be pulled to shore would be
like taking a fish out of water. It felt unnatural and scary, no
matter how imagined the fear. Eventually either the fish would get
loose or the fisherman would get his ultimate catch. That remains
to be seen...

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There is a word that has been used by many that refers to the
almost uncanny coincidences that occur sometimes (I propose
that they happen more often than we pay attention to), seemingly
against the odds of probability. I know you've heard
it spoken before. People say it often: "what are the odds", they
say, a bewildered far away look on their face, as if seemingly
contemplating the actual odds for or against an occurrence. People
are forever searching for scientific evidence to help them make
sense of life's unexplainable.

The word that describes these against the odds "coincidences" is
'synchronicities'. The truth is that if you pay attention and
listen to your instincts, synchronicity is everywhere. The
universe is constantly sending us signals and signs to pay
attention to, but humans in their unbelieving state dismiss these
signs as coincidence. Our minds would have to be willing to think
outside of what we can explain in order to broaden
our own awareness of the energy we share with the universe, with
each other.

It is these very occurrences, these synchronocities, that put the
man and the woman in the same place at the same time; urging them
to interact, orchestrating their meeting, aligning their futures.
Some would call it fate. Others would deem it an act of God. Others
still would say that it was merely happenstance, a fluke.
Regardless of the term given to the events, their worlds had
collided and something had been put in motion that would forever
change them both...

...to be continued...