I’m in a weird place right now. Being powerless, unable to reach those who need you most, or rather, those you need the most, has to be one of the most imperfect feelings in this perfect universe. While I’m not sure what to make of all the things I feel, what I do know is that I’m full. I make a decent living off harnessing and commanding logic and strategy, but at this moment, I can’t really seem to make sense of any of the many feelings floating around.
With one text I turned into a heaping mess of worry, and sadness. Yet, awkwardly enough, there is also hope and contentment. All of this is somehow smothered in the faith I’ve gathered and continue to grow. And this faith has always allowed me to believe that at the very moment you decide you want something, God and the universe immediately begin to conspire in helping you achieve that thing. I’ve always understood this, so it’s only logical that I believe that there is a will and a plan. And that plan will always ensure that I am prepared so that when I show up exactly where I need to be, exactly when I need to be there, all things will work for my good. So while I’ve learned to stomach and grow from most experiences, I’ve excelled in loving the individuals the universe has brought into my beautiful struggle. Because, to my belief, they are meant to be here with me. They are all part of the plan. One of these people is my brother, though from a different mother. My brother was the early love of my life and consistently holds one of the top spots on my “My Favorite People” list. We met soon after I was born, and while I don’t remember, I’m pretty sure the moment my infant eyes met his 5 year old peepers, we became joined at the soul. Through him, I’ve known the purest love for all of my 29 years, untouched by time, the lack of blood-ties, distance, or his fondness for the Dallas Cowboys.
When I was a teen he provided me my first adult beverage on a cold camping trip night and then had the audacity to act surprised when I later became a bit of a lush. I pushed him to go to culinary school after he made a pasta dish that almost forced me to punch him dead in his face for holding back his gift to create deliciousness for so long. He sent text messages on the days of exams and major presentations that read “if you can’t do it, it simply can’t be done.” And I took him to his first Cowboys game and watched him literally cry as we fell under the shadow of the dome. That night I scarified by own happiness to watch him bask in the glory of his boys getting a W.
I say all this to say, we DO love. That type of love that can help mothers lift cars and fathers jump in front of bullets. Love has always amazed me, because it’s always been deeper than the four letters making up the English word we’ve become accustomed to using in an effort to define this undefinable thing. Think about how it doesn’t play by the punk ass rules of a space and linear time. Love is not logic. It’s not a chemical reaction that mimics that brain on a chocolate high, that word some of y’all throw around to describe your admiration for Beyoncé, nor some powerless fuckboy’s reasoning for mistreating the woman he so badly wants to control simply to have some kind of control in this life. Love actually can’t be defined by putting a few words together, in a specific order, and calling it its meaning.
If I had to describe love, I would imagine it’s your personal heaven. It’s what you think of when you consider perfection. MY love is two stepping with a deep shoulder shrug to Gladys Knight & the Pips, being able to eat unlimited homemade cake without getting fat, my Gramps’ face as she sits back and watches her family dig into the Thanksgiving dinner she spent days preparing, the way Lomo jumps up and buries his face in my side every morning, the feeling I feel whenever I hear Return of The Mack, opening up my sunroof after leaving the office early on a sunny Friday afternoon, and the way my heart swells whenever the universe gives me a sign letting me know that I’m in the right place, at the right time, doing some of the right things.
Love connects you to the things and people you hold closest. So much so, that it knows to wake you up in the middle of the night and warn you that an individual whose heart is undeniably connected to yours, is in distress. You see, just a few minutes ago, while on a conference call with some co-workers, I had a movie-like moment. You know those scenes that are made up of a slow motion and dramatic visual, a high pitch ringing, the dulled to almost muted voice of an acquaintance repeatedly attempting to capture someone’s attention, and the main character completely unaware of anything in their physical surrounding. Instead, they’re preoccupied only with their mind’s eye and the thoughts at hand. So while in this meeting, I came to and realized that my co-workers had been asking me a question, only to be met with silence on the line. My eyes were glued to my phone and I was unaware of anything except the fact that my brother was in need. My heart was trying it’s best, from a high-rise in Downtown Dallas, to reach my dear guy whom I imagined was somewhere with his face in his hands and his heart in his lap.
Awkwardly, I was so proud when my brother, also a headstrong and trigger happy Aries, texted to tell me that the labor had begun yesterday evening. I was proud because much like his Daddy & Auntie, my nephew had also refused to let the world tell him when to go. He was going to start his life moving in his own time, at his own pace, and refusing to beat any drum he hadn’t made for himself. I just knew my newest nephew would arrive healthy, although a little early. You really couldn’t have convinced me otherwise. When my brother texted last night that his partner had gone into labor I replied “She’s ready to get here! We’ve got a Taurus on our hands!” (I was also convinced that it would be a girl because everybody seemed to have been producing boys lately.)
So when I got the inverse news today, I froze. I wondered how long it would take to get to LA if I left the office instantly. But as I sat there, unknowingly ignoring my co-workers, a calmness came over me. First, I spoke to my nephew. I told him how upset I was that he hadn’t stayed with us, but that I would cut him some slack because honestly, the world is pretty crazy and I couldn’t really blame him for not wanting to deal with Trump, Congress, global warming, debt, racism, oil spills, or the annoying environment known as society. Then, I spoke to God and the universe and thanked them for creating this thing called love that can transcend all space, and all time, even in life and death. And I thanked them for allowing me to know my nephew’s love, even though I would never meet him here on Earth. Next, I grabbed my little guy by his little spirit hand and dragged him before God and the universe to present him to the Almighty(s). I asked that they save and watch him for us. I asked that they send him again when he’s ready to enter the world and do what he’s meant to do here. Finally, I searched for that 29 year old connection and found my brother, and I sent him my love. I figured he could borrow it. I knew he’d need something to connect to, draw from, and find strength in until his was ready to begin piecing itself back together. So keep it for as long as you need, my dear brother. And thank you for letting me know you, nephew. Be good. We’ll see you soon. Love, Auntie Lissa.