It’s amazing what saying I love you does and actually meaning it.
I said it last Saturday night, and even over the phone, it still scared the living shit out of me.
Like a new cocktail, something sweet and unknown. It bites your tongue. The salt tantalising, and yet you don’t order another.
The sequence of words so overused, and yet still so full when used at just the right moment. Like just as singular words, they are nothing without each other.
I said them to a friend, one I’ve known for the past 4 years. Even her moving to Perth and being a decade older than me, never seemed to alter our bond.
We’re both spiritual in a subtle way and that’s kind of where our similarities end. We both are different- extrovert and introverted. Lesbian/straight.
She tried for love twice last year and I didn’t even enter the same room as it. I’m too busy with my pets and getting everywhere always a tad late, but well dressed to even worry.
But I guess another similarity we share is we’re in touch with seeing the light in most situations and in people. And that’s why at a bar in Surry Hills, we found each other.
And then we kept meeting. Us and the bar staff became a pod. And then it is just us. Two women, on a call. Her heart at the moment was a little tattered as she just broke up with someone. And mine was a little sad, as I was feeling a little unsure – being on the cusp of a lot of ambiguity.
I remind her that she doesn’t need love to make 2022 great. That it and she can be great on its own.
That she told me just last year that 2022 was going to be her year. And there is still 11 months left.
“Grieve…” I told her, “… for as long as you need, and then open your eyes again. 2022 will wait for you.”
Anyway- it felt good to say that to her. Kind of like I needed to hear it back. Needed to give it to someone just to remind myself I had it inside to give. To feel.
Like love was mine even if it wasn’t romantic or familial.
Like love was anyones- even a stranger in a bar.