Reconnecting with a Past Lover
I can remember when I first met the love of my life. It was the summer of 2011. In Paris. What a beautiful and perfect place to meet! I will never forget it. I had traveled all the way from the U.S. the day before. I was fatigued from the trip and my body ached from schlepping all my suitcases through the airports and subways. They were filled with new, pretty clothes and shoes that were perfectly chosen to walk the cobbled streets of Paris. Being the Martha Stewart that I am, I immediately unpacked everything from my toothbrush to my raspberry beret and put it all in their proper places.
I was tired. Yes, I was. But I didn’t care, because I wanted to meet my new lover that would reveal so much to me about ... me. I wanted to talk to him and tell him my thoughts, as crazy as they were, and share my feelings, my desires, and life as I see it through my big, green eyes.
I didn’t expect him to be the love of my life.
Some things just appear out of nowhere though. Like an omen. I like omens. I like the unexpected. I like the unknown. They are exciting. And this new lover would definitely become exciting to me. Always changing. Always evolving. Always showing me something new.
It's funny how things unfold in life and how they all connect. Somehow. Someway. I picture numerous dots on a page with an ongoing line reaching from one dot to the next. Each dot revealing an answer, an epiphany, an experience, and more wisdom to carry you onto the next dot. In the end, you are left with this magnificent hologram, if you will. We each have our own unique hologram that represents our twists and turns and all the many dots we have connected throughout our lives. Until finally, we connect our last dot and our hologram is complete.
So yes, I did not expect to meet this lover. That dot was connected when I decided to take a wild adventure and attend Le Cordon Bleu pastry school in Paris. Oui effing oui! One of the greatest dots ever connected! My friends had suggested that I start a blog, so they can follow my adventures in school.
Several rambling thoughts and limiting beliefs quickly went through my mind.
Crap! Can I even write? I’m not a writer. What am I gonna write about? Is anyone even going to read it? Will I have time to write? Le Cordon Bleu is difficile! I want to spend my extra time exploring the city. Not writing! Hmmm. Well, I suppose I could tryyy. I’m always up for a challenge. Dammit. Fine! I’ll do it! I’ll start a blog! I’ll call it ...
Go Wendy Go!
My first morning in Paris, tired as hell, but excited as hell, I made myself a cup of coffee, took my laptop out to the little table on the balcony, and put my fingers to the keyboard. And there he was. Waiting for me. Our eyes met. My heart filled with joy.
I met my lover. I met my writer.
It was love at first type.
I told him about my long trip to Paris and about the adorable little apartment that would be my home over the next six weeks. Six weeks? Wow. I had never spent one night alone before, not much less six weeks! But here I was, all alone in a big city, on the other side of the world. I wasn’t alone though. I had my new lover. My new friend. I made a commitment to speak to him every day. No matter what.
As tired as I was on some days, after slaving in the kitchen at school, rolling dough and being yelled at by the chefs (good thing I didn’t know French), I made it a point to spend time with him. I would walk the two miles home from school at night with my chef uniform wadded up in my backpack and I would stop at the market for our three favorite things. Those three things that we needed for our long, lovely conversations.
Chocolate, cheese, and wine.
Or maybe it was Wine, chocolate, and cheese.
Yep. That’s what it was.
I would get all settled into my PJs, pour a glass of wine, and make a little plate of goodies to nibble on as I talked to him about my wonderful day in Paris. Mmmm. I told him about my new friends, the excellent food, my morning runs along the Seine River, the twinkling lights on the Eifel Tower, the groovy graveyards in Montmartre, the stinky subways, the 8-euro cup of coffee at Starbucks, the fabulous shops, the yummy pastries that I made in school, the homeless people that ate all my yummy pastries, the fireworks on Bastille Day, and every thought and feeling that arose from all those amazing experiences.
I spoke and he listened.
Time just passed by so quickly when we were together. It was absolute bliss. It was comfortable and inviting. A warm embrace. I felt like the world just stopped and it was just us. When I realized this, I knew we were perfect for one another. I was in love with him. He was in love with me.
And for once, I was in love ❤️ with me, too.
He helped me to tap into my heart, to listen to my heart, and most importantly, to share my heart. I used to be scared to share my heart, but I’m not anymore. Thanks to my new love.
I had been waiting to meet him my whole life. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe he had been waiting to meet me. I am grateful for the dots that led me to him. I am thankful that my eyes were open enough to see him. I soon found out that he was the dot that would lead me to so many more exciting dots along my journey.
Oh, thank God we met!
I no longer have those limiting beliefs running through my mind of: Can I even write? I’m not a writer. Do you know why? Because I don’t give a crap if I deserve the label of a “writer”.
I say who I am and I am a writer.
All I know is that writing makes me happy. Writing is how I express my love to the world. Writing is how I teach the lessons I have learned, the wisdom I have gained, the crazy dots that I have connected, the tears that I have shed, and struggles that I have experienced. Writing is my channel through which my Sassy Spirit can speak. And oh my gosh ... she has so much to say! She doesn’t shut up!
The title of this blog post is Reconnecting with a Past Lover. First of all, I bet I had you fooled, eh? You thought I was going to give you some juicy Fifty Shades of Gray stuff about a past lover. Nope. So sorry. You probably got half-way through the blog post and thought, Damn. She’s just talking about her love for writing. Zzzzz! If you want, just to spice it up a little bit, I can rewrite the one scene where I was drinking wine, eating chocolate and cheese, and talking to my lover. Instead of PJs, how about a black-laced nighty!? That sounds better! Ahhh. The beauty of being a writer! I can create whatever I want!
Alright. Focus! Focus!
My Sassy Spirit has one more thing to say.
In going back to the title of Reconnecting with a Past Lover, it says “Reconnect”, because I have NOT been writing. I have not been connecting with the love of my life. I hit a rough patch and experienced a big letdown due to a book that I had written. I won’t bore you with the details here. Maybe later if my Sassy Spirit feels so inclined to share. All in all, it put a big wall in between myself and my hot lover. I felt restricted, confined, and limited. If you know me at all, then you know that I am none of those descriptions.
Anyway, to make a long love story short, I began to miss writing so much that my heart was literally hurting. My Sassy Spirit was shouting so loudly that I had to force myself out of my dark cave and finally let her speak. I don’t know what the heck she is going to write about now, but I will not stop her again. Ever.
This moment, right here, right now, is another connecting dot in my masterfully constructed hologram. The hologram of Wendy. It just occurred to me that the Greek origin of holo means whole and gram means message. The whole message. Hmmm.
The Whole Message of Wendy.
The Whole Message of my life.
I have a lot of messages to tell you before I connect that last dot. I am glad that I am writing again. I am glad that I broke down that wall. I am glad that I got reconnected to my past lover and brought him back into my present. I am glad that my Spirit is speaking again. I feel at home. I feel at peace. I look forward to the next dot and sharing all of it with my lover.
By the way, I'm wearing purple yoga pants and a t-shirt. Alright fine! Make it a black-laced nighty!
Until my Sassy Spirit speaks again ...