A lesson in loss

Let me just ask, what is the point of the auto save updater at the bottom of the text box I compose my posts in for, if not for saving my writing as I write? Is it not here to save my stellar, sexy as hell, fine piece of writing? Every few minutes, I'd look down and see "Draft saved at 9:15pm, " and minutes later, "Draft saved at 9:18pm," an hour later, "Draft saved at 10:18pm," or "Draft saved at 11:05pm" just before I opened Word and the whole damn computer crashed. After the initial gut wrenching realization that I'd just lost it all, I recalled these little reminders and sighed with relief, thinking that Blogspot had it all saved.

BUT NO!

Blogger saved only this:

A colleague once shared that something her grandmother said that always stuck with her was, "Don't wait on the phone." Meaning, don't stand by the phone waiting for that boy you like to call. Right now, I wish I'd grown up hearing that.

I met the boy a little over a week ago at a local wine bar while out with a couple girlfriends. He knew one of my friends, and they

Only the first few minutes of my writing. I am fuming.

Well, actually, that boy I was waiting on the phone for called at 11:10, a minute after I screamed into my hands that Blogspot was a piece of shit. So, now that he's commiserated on the trauma of technology failures with me, and we've had a sweetly reflective conversation, I am not fuming any longer.

So, all the recounting I did between 9 and 11 of the time said boy and I have spent together since our brief introduction, time full of me being made mute and distracted with his intellect and physical beauty, of him remarking with wonder on my eyes "full of mirth" or on the way my hair reflects the light, of his drooling over the books on my bookshelf, delighting in some real sense of connection with me reflected there on those spines, of his way of remembering things I have said or done that speak to him deeply, of his drive-me-wild kisses and my quick comfort with him, all of that? I guess it didn't need to be published here.

It's all good, and I am choosing to rest in a sense of all possibility instead of hoping desperately for the one possibility I want. I'll admit that I have always gotten what I needed, though not everything I've wanted, and so I will trust that whatever this is I've got going on with this blessing of a man, it's what I need, and for that alone it's a blessing to me.

God or Universe willing, we will be able to allow this to unfold naturally and with as little drama and attachment as possible. May we not be led soley by the heroine-like effects of the palpable sexual magnetism between us. May we be unfazed and untouched by the way fear or doubt can claw at the magic of all of this. May we be led by wonder, and by the hope that in this, we get to learn more about what it means to be love. May I not seek his love, or hold onto small evidences of it for dear life, or try to evoke it from him when I'm experiencing uncertainty. May we both learn just enough about embodying love that we continue to bring light and joy into our worlds. And most of all, may we be grateful for love's presence in all aspects of our lives.

Can I get a "amen"?