I wanted to play your game.
And so I raced . . . no it was more than that >>> I willed myself out of another realm straight into your world. 13 minutes to shower the funk off find something silver – your requirement for my 15 minute tardiness – grapple with my SUV and hope the wheels would find the museum in time to be counted in. All of this without sight – glasses – sunglasses – all having been stolen days before . . .
If I ever knew where LACMA was located – all knowledge left me now. I wasn’t breathing let alone seeing my path to you. I just held onto the wheel investing faith to find you.
At 4:30 on the dot – my left boot hit the steps of the museum – and you gave me a new instruction. Go to the Museum Bookstore, find “Rebels of Hollywood” on the bookshelf, open to page 193, read top line and take the ticket placed inside.
I did!!! Quickly memorizing the top line should I need it for the next step. Sweet joy at making it into the game!!!
And then the next instruction:
3rd floor: Japanese Pavilion: I would find you watching a video.
Now I raced, having found my air . . . into the Japanese Pavilion which was pillow hushed inside – fuzzy lensed – after the willed deportment to LACMA, the brilliant afternoon sun . . .
Not a soul in the place.
Press 3. Slow moves the elevator – and I am released . . . into another curated hush . . . eyes adjusting as I step out into the black and white photographs . . . and then . . .
What happened . . . I was not prepared for.
The game ended. Abrupt. My world stopped.
Breath held . . . visceral . . . loud beating in my ears my brow my ribcage . . . breaking the hush barrier >>>>>>>>>> as I felt my heart drop down a chute to my toes >>>>>>>>>>>> before I realized this happened because my eyes had caught sight of the back of you.
I didn’t even know if I would recognize you – I didn’t have to.
My heart felt you soul felt you the greater I of Me remembered you.
And this is when I fell . . . for you.
Heart in toes – arms like feathers – breath inhaled exhaled you turned around: all kind and present.
Game over . . . adventure begun.
And as we talked light and shadows and shades of grey being things of color – another part of me kept observing my heart in my toes walking side by side with you: :
black boots . . .promenading . . . and I searched for another time when something so visceral so BEFORE me had happened to my heart – when such a completely known affection had overtaken me BEFORE someone had come after me and I had opened a door to the experience –
and onto the Kandinsky’s and Durer wood blocks and more of you: your beside me your insight with the right lace of challenge and conversation – and still – no answer. But this could not be a first . . . it couldn’t . . .
By the time we skated past the Picassos with my somewhat snide remarks and admitting of not being a Hemingway fan . . . I realized I was not going to find another example of this afternoon which was blossoming into my favorite afternoon in recent memory.
We exited the museum in search of a drink and lemonade: for I had blathered on that I had confessions to make – while we were picking out our favorite photographs – the ones that would hang in our separate homes – and now the time to confess had come.
We were comfortably seated in the red chairs I admired and how lovely! – my favorite Cabernet, Genuine Risk, was on the menu . . . and I realized another game was over and yes . . . I was onto a genuine risk.
Blathered confessions of where I had been – what had been washed cleansed – and what was now.
And NOW was the present authentic me in front of you drawn to you wanting to be there because I wanted to be there – for me – without a need to be approached to consider opening my door my heart to you – it was open all before I even knew you – I was just waiting to feel you . . .
And here you were: right in front of me.
NOW: YOU: HEART: VISCERAL.
AMADAES 