First of all, please understand, I miss you terribly and am becoming insufferable to all around me and to those who read me. I’m thoroughly irritating with my inconsolable whinging.
I didn’t do to you what needed to be done to fix you, that would have been easy to put a sticking plaster over but would never have worked. However I didn’t, couldn’t let you shy away from things I knew you needed to do. There were things you needed to understand that you were capable of, things that you’d allowed yourself to run from before and you still carried the scars with a sense of unbearable injury. I could’ve kept you in your self-repair stasis – you could’ve stayed my happy tramp until the end of days, happily, but you wouldn’t have been complete.I hope you’ll understand too that the mend didn’t start with me – you had already started your own reboot and system analysis – that would always happen. All I brought to your oddly mechanical self-repair process was the touch of the goddess. I brought a gentle hand to tend the organic and natural part of you that you most neglect, the part that maybe needed a gardener more than an engineer. The funniest is part is, being so alike, you brought the same part to my very same problem.
Ironically enough for us hodgepodge witches, the best description of our love I can find is from a biblical reference – a passage of Corinthians (13:4 onwards):
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
True love, it turns out, isn’t just a desire for that person, it’s a desire to let that person be the best they can be, to bring their heart closer, by whatever means it takes, to being who they are, to allow them to change and become their potential. That’s all I have wanted to give to you, the space and care to become you.
The risk inherent with that change is that it will take you away from them, perhaps for a while, perhaps forever. And that’s where the love comes in – it is doing all that knowing you might lose. The hardest bet to make, but the best single turn of pitch and toss you can heap all your winnings onto.
If I can do that, well…
NB this letter was a reply to an earlier letter by That Boy which can be found at: