"It couldn't have happened any other way because it didn't."
That's something a fellow calling himself The Mind Architect, Peter Crone, said in a reel that came up on my Facebook page a while back.
I like it because it's so simple, not that it being simple means it isn't hard.
S says I'm a writer, and I guess I am. But while working on a piece for the resurrected Galaxy Brain, Michael having left us to join the Divine, and having to drag myself back to the past again for the material, the theme being love and monsters, I realized I don't want to go there anymore.
Tough for a writer, S pointed out, when I told him of my dilemma.
So I re-read what I'd written, thinking maybe I should give it another go. The starting point had been me waiting with Bernie, our elderly third wheel of hound/lab/beagle/? heritage, while S returned his empties - we'd had Bernie's toenails trimmed, which he doesn't like - and hearing "Wish You Were Here" waft across the parking lot from a couple's truck radio.
We think they might live in their truck in our not quite urban but not suburban 'hood here in our nation's capitol.
And, of course, it was "Wish You Were Here", which, if you let it in, will just overwhelm you with sadness for it all, everything, everybody here and gone, and regret for all the love we thought we had to let go so we could move on.
It was like a wave of sadness washing over me, then through me, I felt it pool in my heart. Really, I just wanted to lie down in that parking lot and cry until I woke up back somewhere in time so it could all happen differently. But when? There are so many times along the way I didn't do the right thing.
So many mistakes, regrets, love lost.
And because I'm a writer, I decided to mine that sadness for Galaxy Brain, a couple of thousand words of this happening and then that happening and, oh, ah, okay, on a re-reading just generally missing the message, well, let's pretend it was a message, a message Michael sent me from the Divine through the couple in the parking lot.
Wish You Were Here.
I deleted the story.
I've left, and I've been left, and I didn't know until just now, right this second, while I type this, that I had it all wrong.
We don't leave love and love doesn't leave us. Love lights our road ahead.
This little light of mine
I'm gonna let it shine
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine
Also, I may be a writer, but it isn't at all good for my eyes.
