Reposted out of nostalgia, not for the person but for my innocence. Part 1. Originally written May 26, 2002.

“I Love the way you walk.”

Startled, I looked at him. I have gotten used to the staring, but I am not sure his random comments will ever fail to surprise me. “What are you talking about?” I asked.

The exact words escape me, but he spoke of grace. In my usual manner, I blamed new shoes which forced smaller, more lady-like steps, but the compliment echoed in my head all evening.

In truth, I am an everyday klutz. I constantly bump into walls and knock into coffee tables. My shins bear the black-and-blue evidence. When I was in first grade, my hula teacher presented me with a certificate for being the “Most Graceful,” but fifteen years have passed since then.

I could brush it all off as a corny line, but I think my cynical act is getting a little old. I could be grateful to him for noticing something about me that no one else has since I was six, but as I mentioned, my clumsy nature did not really deserve this particular praise. Rather, I give him credit for bringing something out in me so skillfully and softly, I didn’t even realize it was happening. So perhaps I do move with a lighter gait; the awareness of being effortlessly beautiful in someone’s eyes has made me less self conscious.

Goodbye was quiet. We chuckled about our mutual and shameful love of Carrot Top and discussed the trivial things that would bore anyone else. There were no tears. “I miss you already,” he whispered. And in a breathless moment, I said I’d be back in the fall.

Today, I listened to my mother and her sister sing in church, their voices in the choir rising sweetly in praise. Today, I sipped guava juice on the ocean front, with Diamond Head in full view. Today, I felt my heart sigh more than a few times.

I wrote this a few weeks ago, and at the risk of seeming pretentious for quoting myself, I’d like to post it here:

When the seeds of love are beginning to take root, but you know that it doesn’t fit in with the landscape, what do you do? Continue to water it for the sake of a beautiful plant? Cut off its sunshine to preempt the pain of someday having to repot and resoil? Let the weeds do the job for you?

Or do you change your vision of a garden?

This entry has been waiting for almost a year.

It’s been Written and rewritten in my head several times. I’ve pondered proper phrasing and searched for delicate prose. What diction could possibly convey these vulnerable feelings?

But Tonight, I realized the secret – words. You see, I build with them and am built by them. I was shaped by your adjectives and desired to be your every noun. And when we separated, I feared I would never verb again.

So I’ve been trying to construct my castle of love on these soft sandy shores. And when one structure after another collapsed, I’d simply begin to rebuild on top of the rubble. I could not figure out what was wrong with my drawings.

Silly me, I’d forgotten about the foundation…

Tonight, you tore me down to my essential building blocks. And although I was careful to use the past tense, just like I was careful in the past tense, I think we both know that there are still raw materials left behind and that they must be taken care of properly.

So whether we put away our blueprints of love lost or gingerly make plans for a new edifice, I’m going to put it in writing tonight that I will never regret our time together. Because yes, it was wonderful, and maybe these words will keep it that way.

“There are words burned in my heart that I try to forget, and it’s not because I want to forget you, but because I want to forget losing you.”