Grace

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I like your hair, the stranger said from across the table.

It looks like yours, I said, smiling at him.

You’re right! he said, laughing at himself …

***

We had met as strangers in November.

Each with the intention of healing the other.

For each of us the healing was the stuff of Magic.

During his candlelight healing, the Magdalene had appeared to me.

And the incandescently beautiful man I was touching had turned to Christ.

***

Five months passed.

And then the stars aligned such that I could welcome him into my home.

It was a week of aggression and grief, loneliness and fear.

And then suddenly, unexpectedly, he arrived on my doorstep.

And a tiny light descended into my world.

We fell into an ease of intimacy that was not contextual.

Finding many common threads, including that …

Although we live in different states, we were born in the same hospital …

***

We talked about what we wanted to create from this magical connection between us.

Right now, I told him. I just really need to be held.

So he wrapped himself around me.

And we made a cozy cocoon.

He scooped me up and tucked me into him.

And held my head in his hand to make sure I was safe.

It was exactly – precisely, perfectly – what I needed.

And the next morning, I awoke with my hands vibrating with electricity, just as when we met.

***

The day after he left, I awoke to face the tremendous weight of the things I had been fearing.

I crept downstairs before dawn.

I curled up in the soft pink sheets where he had slept.

I breathed in the scent of him, lingering still.

I closed my eyes and recalled the felt sense of him.

Of the safety of being in his arms.

And then I arose and turned to face the things I had feared …

***

The meeting with the woman I was dreading went better than expected.

The woman sat in the chair he had been in the day before, as he had teased me about my hair products while sipping coffee and looking through my baby book.

“You know,” the woman said. “I think I have everything I need now. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“No problem,” I lied.

“By the way,” she said, packing her things. “I like your hair … It looks like mine.”

Combining his identical opening words with mine.

“Thank you,” I laughed.

And closed the door behind her.

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