When The Stranger Becomes Less Strange

In so many ways I strangled my youthful self with my intensity, and my ‘deep thoughts’. No ones fault, just an acknowledgement of the person I was born as in this life – serious, deep, emotional, caring, and true as the sun and the moon.

Mom, I find myself in a completely different head space of late. Perhaps its the onset of spring, more sunshine on my face, more light through the day, more walks in the woods? Could be just any of those things, it doesn’t have to be about D3. Yet, I’m fully aware he has made his mark.

Still though, I don’t know what to think of him. Neither of us are looking to co-habitat; although, I did make it clear to him it is a goal of mine, eventually. Right now one could say we are like two streams, going along their own way, and merging every once in a while through the week, month, day.

I would call this time right now more of a courting phase, then love affair. We are both preciously guarding our solitude, while still reveling in the alluring aspects of our togetherness.

So maybe it is time for me to tell you a bit about the D3 I have grown to have affection for? Yes, its time to try to explain, express, acknowledge, this stranger who has recently become less strange.

First and foremost, he is a craftsmen…a carpenter by trade. He has stored, half-finished, in his garage two beautiful walnut pieces he’s finishing up to go into his kitchen, for well over year. Gorgeous handcrafted wood cupboards, chunky and solid in design, but with lovely lines, and a true affection for the grain of the wood evident.

And you know Mom? I do believe I met him, or rather HEARD him, almost 15 years ago at the Regis Tavern on Dundas. You remember that tall, straggly street artist I found just before you died? Yes, one Sunday we spent the afternoon lounging in the sunshine, drinking beers, and listening to the strains of this wonderful duo, called the Double-D’s. Well, wasn’t that my D3 I was listening to on the Mandolin that day on the patio. Incidentally, that was the one and only time I’ve been to that bar.

Yes, and then just last summer I saw him flying one of his small orange airplanes cross the road on the Village Green. I now know that model plane is one of 3 or 4 of those neat miniature aircraft he owns. He longs for those calm, sunshiney days, so he can stand in rapture to the elegance of mechanical flight.

I remember him, because I recall wanting to photograph him, but I was too shy, and fearful he’d speak to me.

Vintage Bicycle c1950's. In front new Norco.
Vintage Bicycle in Front – c1950’s – with new Norco.
And, you will often find him cycling through the village, upon either the vintage or new of his collection; being his primary mode of rapid transportation. Yet, his pedestrian {or cycling in his case} lifestyle suits him just fine, as it has always suited me.

I’ve shown you his miniature toon figurine collection already, and so its obvious that this man truly has a deep, and personal relationship with his inner child. This characteristic I find intriguing, as I felt that I was NEVER really childish, atleast not as a child. You know me, far too serious sometimes for my own good.

This carefree, youthful fascination he has with ‘childish’ things, well, I find that illuminating. How does one retain our childhood self, while fully engaging with this “adult” world we now inhabit?

With all his childish things, he as well craves the historical, and like myself, you will often find one documentary or other playing away in the background, serving to fulfill our desire to know.

Yesterday was actually one of the first days in a while we didn’t see one another you know Mom. I’ve been over there almost every night for close to a month now, for dinner. He had a friend over last night – the mother of the little girl he mentors – they are very close friends. At one time they were in fact lovers, for 5 years actually, but that ended and now they are bestfriends.

Should I be jealous of that friendship? Maybe, but I’m not. The three of us have hung out, and I felt no reason to see her as a threat. Although, he didn’t end up calling me last night, so maybe I should?

Maybe I should, but I’m not. What is for me is for me, and will not pass me by. I truly do believe that.

I’ve come between them probably lately, and given that I’m so new, I can’t blame HER for being somewhat out-of-joint over me commandeering her friend, and confidant. She’s going through some shite with this addict boyfriend of hers, and she needs a friend to unhinge, unwind and unburden herself on. I get that.

OH, and D3 has only a landline. Yip. No cell. Has never had one, and is completely reluctant to acquire one – though acknowledges he may soon need to change his mind.

And so, I hoe my own row, and fashion my days and nights to suit myself. No more do I feel compelled to drop my life and loves at the door to assuage my aloneness. In the past I’ve lost myself, and in so doing I’ve destroyed the thing that was part of the attraction. When two lost souls find themselves in each others company, it is too easy to throw away the fabric of your being, and become something else to appease the other.

In our fear of loss, we lose anyways, tis a lesson I’ve learned the hard way.

I’m not addicted to him, I’m not obsessed. Neither in love, nor am I merely in lust. I would call it inquiry mode. He intrigues me, certainly.

Yet, with all that said, he did say he’d call me last night after she left, and he didn’t. I waited for that call. An hour and half later, and starting to feel hunger pangs, I fetched my own fare and left him a voicemail to that effect. But no call came.

I wonder what that means? Probably nothing. Maybe everything.

Perhaps I’ve become too aloof? Ah well, if he be so skittish, than he be not worthy. In the past, with others, I’ve clung. Grasping on for dear life, and ignored, and been indifferent to, my own needs, in order to please, and in the end the branch snapped and I fell by the way.

I’m not clinging, nor do I NEED. I want, and I feel, but I do not NEED.

This stand back, come forward, dance the tango, and swirl off on ones own, dance that we’ve begun is good.

All that bravado aside, today I’m uncertain of what has become of him. It isn’t like him to just not call, and I do wonder what this means. Every second that goes by, I sway, back and forth, from confidence to worry. As always though, what will be will be – what is for me will NOT pass me by.



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