Bone Deep

There are certain times in life when you simply know in your bones. When all doubt falls away and clarity strikes like lightning, unexpected, out of the blue, blinding. Like when love shows up, after you’ve given up all hope that love will ever come for you.

That’s how it was with him. I was camped by a river, miles away from civilization and years away from any hint of falling in love. After my first marriage I had surrendered to the fact that I had been given my one big chance on love and was determined to find satisfaction in being on my own, committed to no one but myself, the land, the ravens, the river, and the stars.

Looking back now, I should have known better. I should have known it’s the times we think we know what’s up that the gods begin to laugh and turn in their sleep, delighted to reach out and stir the cauldron of our lives, mixing mischief with magic in ways we can never dream up on our own.

My camp site was right on the banks of the river, framed by willows and sycamore, shared by two ducks, a blue heron, and a swarm of bees. That day I had dozed off on a picnic blanket in the afternoon sun and was savoring the space between waking and dreams, just beginning to believe I really could be happy forever on my own. After all, who needs a man when there’s a gentle breeze to caress your skin, a day free and open as the sky, and the promise of quiet firelight to share the evening with.

My half-dreams were mingling with the babbling of the river and the buzzing of bees, something about stirring honey into the tea I was sharing with my grandmother as we sat by the sea. Then suddenly my grandmother’s voice turned into a man’s voice, talking about where to sleep and asking if there was firewood nearby. It was as if I’d heard that voice a million times before, and as it slowly drew me back into my normal consciousness, I became aware that I was lying by the river, listening to a camper who had just arrived as he spoke to the camp host just a few yards away.

That was when the lightning struck. I was intoxicated by that voice. It drew me in like the quiet eye of a storm and woke a fire in my heart. A fire I had squelched along with those last few drops of dying hope when I resigned to my inevitable fate of becoming a free but lonely cat-lady for the remainder of my days.

I wanted to linger forever in my half sleep, listening to that voice. I couldn’t open my eyes for fear of shattering what must be a nothing more than a beautiful dream.

Eventually the voice faded. Eventually I opened my eyes, dipped my feet in the cool water of the river, smiled at the ducks splashing on the bank, and went about my business of preparing to chop a zucchini to add to the angel hair pasta that would be my dinner that night.

“Hey neighbor”.

That voice. That voice of burning embers, mountain lakes, and ancient canyon echoes. I looked up expecting to be disappointed by a face that didn’t match the deep vibration sending shock waves to my veins, only to be met by sparkling eyes of crystal blue and a smile as radiant as the sun.

“Well, fuck.”, I thought, and that was the moment that my heart would never ever be the same.

To make a long story short, we stumbled through an awkward introduction before falling into easy, playful conversation that carried long into the night. Somewhere along the way we ate my pasta, swirling long noodles onto forks and laughing. Somewhere along the way the sky grew dim and he built a fire, bending down to gently fan the flames with his slow breath. Somewhere along the way his arm brushed us against mine, sending shivers down my spine and causing my soul to shake.

Somewhere along the way he poured two glasses of ruby red Merlot into small mason jars, handed one to me, and looked directly into my eyes. “To hope”, he said, half smiling, in that voice like cool fire.

In that moment the gods all danced with glee, the raven cackled, the river murmured knowingly, the stars winked, and all the things I thought I knew were shattered instantly. As if the glass in my hand had slipped and shattered on the stones. In its place, just the deep-down kind of knowing that comes only rarely in a life. My blood rushed. My heart burst. My bones spoke. Love had come for me.