The Reunion

I got it all back. All the things I’d lost, both deliberately and accidentally.
There it all was, waiting for me. Glistening, blinding bright light, two eagles dancing in the sky, whipped cream clouds, empty reservoirs, shiny new boxy buildings climbing up, up, up, the warmth of the sun on an iced breeze, the lakeshore lapping against the murky reeds, lilacs in full bloom and their fragrance like the ghost of a lover, the purple irises like erections, the deep purple buds still tight, still days from opening, like little nuts of possibility, compact energy. I was both the closed bud and the fully realized flower. My eyes were the color of the sky and the Puget Sound and the evergreen forest on a foggy morning. The Flower Moon was full over Lake Washington.

How many eyes did I look into that weekend?

When I opened my eyes wide and let my irises relax, then my energy changed and you opened your eyes wider too. And we were both completely comfortable with the pause that followed. We went somewhere else, together, where we were one in the same and we were not afraid to reveal to each other that we were really terrified and damaged and also full of childlike hope that taking the risk to be open would benefit both of us.

We stared into the void until we almost understood the meaning of it all, but then we were brought back to our bodies, and we laughed as we continued looking into each other’s eyes. The laugh was a kind of crying, the kind that heals. Then we noticed that our eyes had become the same color.

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