I wish you would have seen Dan in Real Life with me last night. Without giving too much away, I’d say it’s basically the story of a person who has to learn how to open one’s heart again. Everyday I’m so in love with you, it’s hard to remember there was a time before you when my heart was shut so tight it was in danger of atrophy. On dates, anxiety would just bubble in my throat ready to choke me.
And then, when I was least expecting it, you came along. Like Dan in the movie, you might as well have been singing Townshend’s “Let My Love Open the Door (to your heart).” You were Ali Baba saying “Open Sesame” but it was I who found a treasure, as if by magic.
And now with all that love, we try to make a baby. Yesterday, Arleen told me she dreamed of water again. The last time she had a water dream, we were pregnant. The water this time is crystal clear. She tells me now, in that first dream, the water was murky. Who knew we had an oracle in the family? I only know how anxious I am to prove how real her vision is.
My students read Elizabeth Bishop’s poem “The Fish.” This fish, at first glance, it isn’t pretty. It is “infested” and “aching.” The fish’s been caught before, then released.
Maybe I am the fish. Maybe it was our miscarriage. Either way, there is the lesson Bishop’s narrator learns. When we accept what battles have been fought, what has been lost (and gained), how to open ourselves, to let nature run its course, even an ugly fish in murky water can become a thing of beauty. When we let go, everything around us becomes “rainbow, rainbow, rainbow.”
I love you.
Forever and ever,