I updated my 2016 Goals to include blogging at least once a week. I did post on Sunday, which would count as my one time for this week, but I had this little diddy sitting around on my desktop waiting to be read.


Sometimes you meet someone important. They stick out in your memory and in your life as someone essential, as a main point, as someone you just couldn’t miss out on. They might be your opposite in every way except for the very most important way, and they might remind you and challenge you to be different and more and better and freer and higher while at the same time really, really bothering you. They might be just what you need, just what you think you need, just what you need for just right now and you might even be a little part of what they need, too, which makes you feel good. Perhaps you dreamt about marrying someone with that same person’s name just days before meeting them. Perhaps you have a feeling. Perhaps when they sing you think you might cry, not because you are sad but because it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. Perhaps you think, “Holy crap! Could this person right here right now be the one? This person who makes me roll my eyes and pray for patience and dream bigger and laugh harder? Could this be the one?”

And then, way too fast and way too soon, everything has changed and it went by too quickly and maybe they could’ve been the one but you’ll never know now. Because life or God or an airplane has taken them up and away, far away. And that one important in-common thing becomes deeper and stronger, like the trunk of an oak tree, but everything else just becomes tangled up roots and branches with nests full of baby birds in them and you hardly talk anymore. You are watching your separate lives grow farther and farther apart. You are remembering that time when they came together, intersected, intertwined, and you both grew. You are cheering that person on, loving them in big ways from afar, learning that it might be a good idea just to try to accept that from afar may be the only way you get to love them anymore, that that one snapshot in time together was all you guys were actually going to get, that hearing that person sing in person is something you might not ever get to do again, and the videos on social media just aren’t the same.

So, when you think of this person now you feel many things. So, so happy for the adventure of a life they are living. So, so concerned for the little things they have yet to learn, like how to take care of themselves. So, so sad that conversations aren’t as easy when you’re continents away. So, so excited for all of the great things they are going to learn and see and be. So, so grateful for who they are, for their existence in the world, for the flash of bright, genuine, authentic light that they are and that you get to be a witness to it, even if it’s just in a small, through-the-internet kind of way.

And you think more than you want to about how you love this person in a big way. Perhaps you think more than you want to about this person’s freckles or their loud laugh or how if you published this on anything public they would know exactly who you were talking about. Perhaps you know that it wouldn’t matter anyway, that it wouldn’t matter in the best way.

Perhaps you are reminded that, shoot, if this person isn’t the one – because of distance and language and time and reality and all of those little things besides the one big thing – then how stinking amazing is the one going to be? Perhaps one of the things you feel when you think about this person, when you see their latest selfie, when you hear that song that they used to sing that gave you goosebumps, is this crazy-insane expectant joy for what will eventually come. Not because this person isn’t good enough, but because of just how good they are. Because they, too, would agree that “the one” should be the one in all of the ways – little and big, deep and wide, tree trunk and sprawling branches.

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