I wrote this July 19, 1997 and just rediscovered it. Amazing what your soul can know before it exists. I believe we’re on the train.

“The Picture of the Man Whom I Can’t Describe”

Why can’t I describe him, you ask? Well, I could if I looked at the picture and told you of his ashen eyes, his polished hair, the Armani suit and Gucci watch with just the right amount of stubble to be fashionably unkempt. But you know, that is not what I think it is to describe a man. The man I want to describe doesn’t look a particular way. It’s not in his picture portrait photograph portfolio. It’s his mind, his spirit, I seek. Does he love himself, know himself, can he be free to love his children and dance naked in a lake of loveliness? Does he prattle on about Aristotle or does he invent fairy tales as the children climb on his lap and look at the stars? I want to know this man. The man of the children. He who knows his nature and is not frightened to be himself. He sings in harmony and laughs from his soul. He has time to think. He looks in my eyes and sees beyond the brown to the smile. He sees the tears and doesn’t rush to wipe them away, but sits looking at them, cherishing them, knowing each is a gift from God to wash away unclarity and so he says a tiny thank you for each one and is blessed with some of his own. His hand holds mine, but it is not patronizing nor protecting, just loving and supporting, saying, “I can’t do it for you, but I am here with you. You are never alone.” His smile is the brightest neon white and his heart smiles through to the world past his lips. I want them to kiss me, on the cheeks, on my forehead. We are a team. I am strong yet vulnerable and so is he. We do not frighten each other. Only love is real. I wonder if he is? He is materializing, I believe. Perhaps not complete in his final form yet, but then neither am I. As I grow so will he and we will recognize ourselves in each other. So, you’re the one I’ve been growing with. I wondered when I would find you. Perhaps you’ve already stood facing each other but the mirror was not complete yet. There remained work to be done, so you kissed your silent goodbyes until you meet again, hoping that next time you’ll be taking the same train and this time you can share the ride.