I see you… everywhere.
In the many works of art you bought for me over the years, including this beautiful heart you chose for me when you were in LA years ago.
In the many masterpieces you have written that nearly fill an entire bookshelf and of which I am so proud.
In the loving acknowledgements and book signings.
On the dining room chair where you always hung your backpack when you came into my house.
On the nightstand where you always placed your books and such.
In the Andy Warholesque portrait of my beloved Chaz that you had made for me. I will awaken to that image again once I stop sleeping in my guest room.
In the kitchen chair where you always sat praising my toast. It was just toast and butter, but you always raved about it.
In the ceiling fan you hung years ago in my home office. A lot of laughter and cursing took place in that endeavor, and a bat mitzvah in Norfolk figured prominently in that process, which provided some good laughter after your anger subsided.
In the Christian Bernard pearls you placed around my neck when you asked me to marry you. I love those pearls, but you need to understand why I must sell them. They represent something that will never happen.
Same goes for my engagement ring. I’d always hoped we’d sell that and buy a commitment ring. Now I think I will just buy a new bed or a vacation.
In my hometown–where I rarely visit these days. A guy who’s lived many places around the globe falling in love with a girl from a mill town.
In the state park, Nawab (our place), Y Not Italian, the old Virginian-Pilot building, and 25 years of other places and items.
I am confident we will find each other again in a good way–however life plays out– but as I told my older son (you know his name) this morning, we both needed a clean break (years ago) from the mess we created in some big decisions and lesser ones. He said that was a good way to put it.
I know you may never read this, but if you do, please understand that I know you walked on eggshells regarding former female colleagues and others when I became an overly suspicious person after you chose to stay in a certain city. I totally understand that… and I am deeply sorry.
And you must understand that I write from the heart, and my writings resonate with people going through similar things, be that relational matters, career decisions, yoga… whatever, and my writing here is loving in every way. I, too, cannot walk on eggshells while sharing my heart with sensitivity to us.
I see you… and one day down the road, I’ll see you again.
And you will see me whole and healed and wiser.
Amy Walton is a writer, speaker, mother, grandmother, yoga instructor, and lover of Christ. She is currently leaning into inhales and longer exhales. Connect with her at amywaltoncoaching@gmail.com.