Dear Friends,
As we all know, life is full of “first times,” some exhilarating, some not very much so! Following a loss, the “firsts” develop a life of their own!
The last man who broke my heart was a house painter. Three years ago, he was contracted to paint the house of a family in the community.
Last night, I had dinner in that house! My hosts were never aware of the connection between their painter and their daughters’ teacher. I, however, always thought it was cool that my boyfriend was painting the house of the “President of my Fan Club!”
I’ve never heard walls talk before, but last night they did! It seemed they were looking at me too!
When I complimented the hosts on their beautifully renovated house, they said they had an amazing painter and then went on telling me all sorts of anecdotes, most of which I had already heard from the painter himself! I was having a “surreal” experience nested between two parallel realities, one in the past, the other in the present. I could sense the painter’s warm presence everywhere in the house. However, when, on my way out, I discretely brushed my fingers against an immaculately painted wall, it felt cold!
I left the “twilight zone” a bit unsettled, but most grateful to the K’s for acting as mediator-angels between me and my pain. What better place to exorcise the demons than in the heart of a respectful, kind family, surrounded by the unconditional love of my students?
This morning, I don't regret that ardour invading my heart a few years ago. But then, I don’t regret that mortal leaving my life, either. Surely, this is a blessing worth counting, just days before the “first” Christmas!
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