A Song For Someone

 A Song For Someone

Ginny awoke with The Voice strong in her head.

It had broken into her imagination and freely taken whatever It wanted. She was fine with this, for after all, she’d given this Force full permission to do so.

She began her day with a prayer. 

Having woken knowing that a new day had begun, her brain began to percolate.

It told her of all the things she had to do, all the tasks done, those left behind, those that still needed to be done.

This devious organ went to the many ways it could distract her…both naughty and nice.

She climbed up into the ivory tower and then…was lost, running around and around, looking for a way down.

As she gazed over that precipice, she…fell. 

As she fell, the fear began to seep out and soon left behind a huge black void, begging to be filled.

It was at this exact moment that Something came for her.

It was huge, It was mysterious and It enveloped her in a gloriously soothing balm of peace.

She sighed, beyond grateful for having found a safety net.

She turned to HIM and on bended knees, humbly asked…

“God, Show Me the Way”…

Gin opened her eyes. She gently rubbed those weary orbs, gazed out on the day and found her vision slightly blurred.

We last left her slightly lonely, pinning a little for that which she really wasn’t sure she wanted in the first place.

She had found an amazing man. 

Against many odds, she realized that she had begun to fall in love with him.

This was not an easy task for her to face and her struggles with the complexities of this blossoming emotion, left her dizzy with confusion.

Luke broke patterns for her. These intricate designs had woven their way through the fabric of her life. The threads of this cloak had worn thin in many places and as she unraveled and transformed, much became clear.

She sensed that there were Cosmic Forces at play of which she had little control.

She also knew from the perspective of a slightly warped brain, that she could complicate this process in a matter of seconds. Ginny was a speed demon and a master manipulator. And as were others of her ilk, she was somewhat self-centered and narcissistic. She had spent many years in a process of recovery that did its best to offer respite to those who sought its medicine. It was a tough disease to crack, as the most successful remedy was of a spiritual nature and at this, many balked.

Ginny was a passionate woman. When she loved, it was intense. The reality was, that for her, Life itself was an intense experience.

Her mother had done her best to domesticate what she sensed was a rather feral cat. Her fear of this daughter getting loose and being on the prowl, often overrode instincts that dictated a more gentle approach.

Ginny rolled with the toss and learned to survive in what often amounted to a hostile environment.

She knew that her mother loved her. At a very deep level, she understood the frailty of fabric that allowed this woman to abuse an innocent child. 

In her death, the mother and child reconciled a lifetime of conflict. The mother’s passing brought much peace and resolution to the daughter. And that resolution completed a cycle for two loving, intertwined souls.

Now Gin’s father was a bird of a different feather.

He was the youngest of twelve children. At the age of two, he lost his mother as she attempted to give birth to her thirteenth child.

This was an event which greatly shaped the fabric of his life.

His father was in his late fifties when Marcel was born and hardly capable of raising young children on his own. Thankfully, the oldest siblings, with children of their own, took up the slack. Between this, housekeepers and an eventual second mother, Marcel was raised into adulthood and got what he wanted.

What he never got over was…being a spoilt brat. He was an adorable child who used his charm and good looks to captivate people.

This worked until he produced a child of his own, who was rather astute in her abilities to pick up discrepancies in the natures of those around her. She was quite ruthless in holding the mirror up to her father…he didn’t like the reflection.

It was through years of hard work that Ginny was able to reconcile almost seventy years of discord and make peace with a father she actually adored.

She reached a place where, when asked, she could honestly say that, given many choices, she would have chosen the man who called himself her father.

She well remembered the day she sat in her therapist's office. The woman had given her homework. Ginny was to take a week, make a list of all the ways her father had abused and hurt her.

Ginny was an obedient student. She went home, completed the assignment and returned to her therapist the next week.

With heavy heart she began to read from the litany, there were pages and pages.

She stopped after the first few words, put the paper aside, turned to the woman in front of her and said, “Imagine a line of men. The best of the best. Men who stood out amongst men.”

And so we come again to Luke, a rather enigmatic mystery for Gin.

There were resonations after resonations for her with this man. 

He cast a stone that sent ripples across her psyche and began to leave her breathless with anticipation of a climax.

She found herself participating in exchanges that both horrified her and at the same time left her dizzy with pleasure. To say the least, she somewhat lost her balance!

She also knew that both she and Luke needed to tread carefully the waters they had embarked upon. They shared a disease that left them very vulnerable to relapse and it was relentless in its quest to get what it wanted most.

Ginny hung onto hopes with this man, sensing that what they offered one another was deeper than what even she imagined, and this woman was NOT short on imagination.

Like herself, Luke was an artist and viewed the world mostly through that lense. 

He was considerably younger than Ginny. She used this and her fear of his repulsion for her body to sublimate what was for her an ever increasing desire to be more intimate with this man.

She found herself indulging in dialogue that frightened her in its intensity.

She knew she’d crossed a line when she asked him if he’d like her to share one of her fantasies. 

His response, “Sure”, overrode any caution that might have stopped a more sensible person. 

Luke seemed to enjoy the following tale:

“I'm with my lover in a crowded gathering.

He is across the room, quietly observing.

I'm over on the other side, busy chatting and charming anyone who gets caught in my web.

I catch his eye, he crooks his finger.

I immediately end my exchange and casually make my way to where he is standing against a wall.

I arrive, ask him what he wants.

He reaches down to pull me from my walker (I'm already halfway out on my own).

He gently leans me against his crotch and quietly says, “Hide my hard on".

I smile innocently, leaning in as he whispers more words in my ear.

Everyone thinks we are discussing spiritual matters.”

Luke may have believed he was the object of that fantasy. Sadly he wasn’t, but Gin HAD begun to wonder if he could be.

Over the course of a month and hours and hours of texting one another, a beautiful piece of fabric began to unfold.

Gin was blown away by the intensity of her feelings and instead of the usual pattern that had plagued her entire adult love life, her feelings for Luke seemed to blast away the remnants of discord and dysfunction that had followed her since her teens.

Luke was a musician. He teased her relentlessly with offers to show her his “magic flute”. He may or may not have known how much this stimulated a very curious cat, but Gin, a dyed in the wool Leo, was definitely snared by the dangled lure. She chased and she chased hard.

She had always loved music. More precisely, she’d always loved lyrics and found that her Higher Power spoke most clearly through that venue.

When a song called to her over and over again, she paid attention.

U-2’s, Song for Someone began to occupy the moments of her day…

“You got a face not spoiled by beauty

I have some scars from where I've been

You've got eyes that can see right through me

You're not afraid of anything they've seen

I was told that I would feel nothing the first time

I don't know how these cuts heal

But in you I found a rhyme

If there is a light

You can't always see

And there is a world

We can't always be

If there is a dark

Now we shouldn't doubt

And there is a light

Don't let it go out

And this is a song

A song for someone

This is a song

A song for someone

You let me into a conversation

A conversation only we could make

You break and enter my imagination

Whatever's in there

It's yours to take

I was told I'd feel nothing the first time

You were slow to heal

But this could be the night

If there is a light

You can't always see

And there is a world

We can't always be

If there is a dark

Within and without

And there is a light

Don't let it go out

And this is a song

A song for someone

This is a song

This is a song for someone

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

And I'm a long way

From your hill of Calvary

And I'm a long way

From where I was, where I need to be

If there is a light

You can't always see

And there is a world

We can't always be

If there is a kiss

I stole from your mouth

And there is a light

Don't let it go out”

So came the day she finally worked up the courage to ask Luke to bring over his flute.

Silence, and then worse than the silence were his attempts to answer her question. He was kind and gentle, yet determinedly firm.

She realized he was nowhere near the same space she was, and though saddened, she was quite willing to let go of her expectations.

She knew without doubt that she wanted to maintain a relationship with this man, no matter the nature of its existence.  

She prayed, meditated, spoke to others of her tribe and simply chose to accept whatever was meant to unfold.

It was enough.

She would gaze at Luke’s face, and see…

A line of men.

The best of the best.

Men who stood out amongst men.

At the front of this line stood, her Luke.

And then a strange thing happened.

The line began to shimmer and shift, gradually blurring into a mist that left Luke slightly out of focus.

She rubbed her eyes, looked again and saw…many possibilities.

She still loved her Luke. He was by far the best she had ever chosen. Without doubt, he was the standard by which she would measure whatever was to come.

Visions of lovely flutes began to dance before her eyes.