As we drive up the side of the hill and into the parking space I see several cabins. Ours is aptly named the "Treehouse". It's quaint and well appointed. A wood buring fireplace, exposed redwood beams and a soaking tub greet the two of us. Mark opens the shades on the glass French doors that open to a wooden deck and I gasp.
The view is breathtaking.
Between the sequoia sentinels that flank our cabin, the yawning pacific is in clear view. Gulls wing aloft on an evening zephyr. Again, the urge to break down into a weepy silly mess is strong but I manage to hold it together. The embrace I give Mark comes from the deepest part of my being. In one grand unselfish loving act Mark has done what no other man has been able to;
He's healed my heart.
A sense of absolute peace steals over me. In the scant time we've been together, Mark has shown me capital "L" Love more times than I can count. Mark had become home to me. My shield against the strife that exists in everyday living.
Mark had made reservations for dinner that evening. St. Orres serves world class cuisine, and I must say it was one of the finest meals I've ever had. From the cold pineapple soup, to the perfectly cooked fillet, my palete enjoyed a variety of wonderful flavors that evening. All the while those twinking blue eyes of Mark's gaze across the table at me. Deep soulful eyes filled with love.
Love for me.
The next morning, Breakfast arrives on our cabin porch in a critter proof box that is a marvel. Contained within is more of St Orres fantastic food. Quiche, organic fruit, granola, milk, oj. Nourishment as much for the soul as the body.
We spend the next couple of days beach combing. We drive up to Point Arena where I collect pieces of abalone, while he gathers bits of colored glass. Both of us facinated by the action of nature on one of mankind's most mundane objects. Flecks of green, brown and blue sanded and polished into little silicone gems.
We drive home along Highway 1. Both of us grateful for different things. Mark happy that the weather forecast turned out wrong. We were blessed with amazing weather for the entire weekend. No rain or fog meant the Mendocino and Sonoma coast were bathed in sunlight. Spring grass and orange poppies greeted us along the meandering coast highway.
My gratitute existing on several levels. As shallow as the bliss afforded by Mark knowing who Dokken is. Or being able to sing the words of "Winds of Change" (The Scorpions for the uninitiated). To the deep well spring of appreciation that here at last is a man who "gets" me. Here is someone who knows me as well as I know myself.
A man who sees my light and loves my dark.
The weekend ends with a trip through Bodega Bay, and a stop at the Freestone Bakery. We walk to the General Store and grab something to drink. Mark and I share a comfort and ease with each other that had always been sensed but never explored.
It's in the comfortable silences that I find revelation.
I no longer have to wish on birthday candles. Never again will I have to tie knots into hankerchiefs when I see a shooting star. Gone are reading tea leaves, tarot cards and horoscopes. I don't have to hope for the future.
My future is now. My future is Mark. That is the best birthday present of all.
And all I want to do is weep.
For joy.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Solar Return
So here I am in the 42nd year of my life, extremely happy and fulfilled. Thursday past was my birthday and I have to say, the best birthday of my life. I know that sounds like hyperbole but allow me to explain.
I've never seen my birthday as special. My childhood was short courtesy of an alcoholic father. I learned rather early not to belive what I was told, but rather what I was shown. After my father missed my 8th birthday party in favor of a drunken stupor with his buddies, I gave up on seeing my birthday as anything but another day on the calendar.
Not that others haven't tried to make the day special. My mother to her everlasting credit did all she could during my youthful birthdays to make up for my father's missteps. My brothers have always done the same. I've had lovers kick up the biggest fuss and throw the best parties for me. Yet nothing has ever revived the long dormant spirit of child-like wonder birthdays are supposed to have.
Until last Thursday.
So my Great Love meets me at Sundance for a night of 2-stepping on my birthday. This in and of its self is a huge deal for me. As with every other time we've danced it's throughly magical. He truly is my match in so many ways. Our dance chemistry is unique and I've only ever shared such ease on the floor with a handful of dance partners.
We drive to his place, throughly exhausted. We go to bed, me knowing that he has to work in the morning. While I wish he didn't have to I'm excited just to be with him. I look forward to greeting him when he arrives home from teaching his beloved charges. I awake with a start at 7am realizing he's going to be late if he doesn't get up immediately.
I rouse him, he rolls over and nonchalantly intones "I took today off. Go back to sleep." I'm so joyful at the news I bear hug him to the point of hearing joints pop. We happily sleep in, arising only because we do have a bit of work to do.
Mark has an incredibly giving nature. He weekly gathers donated goods from one of the local super stores and delivers them to a day labor center near his home. It's the sort of action that many of us of the liberal ilk speak of but seldom actually do. Yet Mark has been quietly giving of his time and his pocket book to the causes that move him for years.
It's inspiring.
So it's not only a pleasure but a joy to help him on his appointed rounds. As the men from the labor center unload my car, I see a sense of gratitude and relief I've not experienced since I was a boy. The look is the same one I remember as I stood in line with my grandmother to get free government butter and cheese; pride giving way to need.
Poverty knows no era.
For my reward, Mark takes me to lunch near Goat Rock, a promitory in the Pacific just off the Sonoma Coast near Jenner. We dine on amazing Indian food. The mango lasse shared between us seems all the sweeter because it belongs to both of us.
After lunch, Mark suggests a drive up the coast to Whale watch. Loving both the company and my Mini, I eagerly agree. We drive up the coast heading North. It's difficult to describe the drive up the Coast Highway. Beautiful seems such a poor descriptor of Sonoma's natural wonder that time, wind and water have wrought.
We jump out of the car only once. We tumble back to the warmth of the Mini, chased there by cold, wet weather that reminds us both it's still nascent spring on the North Coast. The warmth of his hands and his kiss still linger as I start the car and we continue North.
Somewhere along the drive I see a sign that says the little town of Gualala is a short ride from where we are. I suggest we head there since, that part of Mendocino county has special meaning for me. Mark amiably agrees, suggesting there's a toy store there that he wants to visit.
I need no excuse to point the Mini in the direction of the Menodocino county line. Mark indicates that the toy store is up beyond town. As we crest a ridge I see what can only be described as a Russian Catherdral resting on rise. As I turn into the entrance a sign greets us with the name "St Orres".
We park and venture in. I expect to see toys lining the shelves. Instead I find a beautifully appointed lobby. An inviting bench made up of pew ends sits in front of a fire. As I look around in bewilderment, a silver haired gentleman appears, emerging from a oaken swinging door. he smiles and asks if he can assist us.
Mark intones, "yes we have reservations for 2 nights". He looks at me and a victorious smiles sweeps across his face. He's pulled it off. The surprise is complete. In that moment, in that self satisfied smile of Mark's, I realize that this birthday has been unlike any other. For the first time in more than 30 years I experience the joy of wonder.
I feel like I'm 9 again and all I want to do is weep. Instead, I follow Mark back out to my car, a silly sheepish grin on my face. We follow the directions given us by the innkeeper and we arrive at our abode for the next 2 days.
What happens next will follow in another post.....
I've never seen my birthday as special. My childhood was short courtesy of an alcoholic father. I learned rather early not to belive what I was told, but rather what I was shown. After my father missed my 8th birthday party in favor of a drunken stupor with his buddies, I gave up on seeing my birthday as anything but another day on the calendar.
Not that others haven't tried to make the day special. My mother to her everlasting credit did all she could during my youthful birthdays to make up for my father's missteps. My brothers have always done the same. I've had lovers kick up the biggest fuss and throw the best parties for me. Yet nothing has ever revived the long dormant spirit of child-like wonder birthdays are supposed to have.
Until last Thursday.
So my Great Love meets me at Sundance for a night of 2-stepping on my birthday. This in and of its self is a huge deal for me. As with every other time we've danced it's throughly magical. He truly is my match in so many ways. Our dance chemistry is unique and I've only ever shared such ease on the floor with a handful of dance partners.
We drive to his place, throughly exhausted. We go to bed, me knowing that he has to work in the morning. While I wish he didn't have to I'm excited just to be with him. I look forward to greeting him when he arrives home from teaching his beloved charges. I awake with a start at 7am realizing he's going to be late if he doesn't get up immediately.
I rouse him, he rolls over and nonchalantly intones "I took today off. Go back to sleep." I'm so joyful at the news I bear hug him to the point of hearing joints pop. We happily sleep in, arising only because we do have a bit of work to do.
Mark has an incredibly giving nature. He weekly gathers donated goods from one of the local super stores and delivers them to a day labor center near his home. It's the sort of action that many of us of the liberal ilk speak of but seldom actually do. Yet Mark has been quietly giving of his time and his pocket book to the causes that move him for years.
It's inspiring.
So it's not only a pleasure but a joy to help him on his appointed rounds. As the men from the labor center unload my car, I see a sense of gratitude and relief I've not experienced since I was a boy. The look is the same one I remember as I stood in line with my grandmother to get free government butter and cheese; pride giving way to need.
Poverty knows no era.
For my reward, Mark takes me to lunch near Goat Rock, a promitory in the Pacific just off the Sonoma Coast near Jenner. We dine on amazing Indian food. The mango lasse shared between us seems all the sweeter because it belongs to both of us.
After lunch, Mark suggests a drive up the coast to Whale watch. Loving both the company and my Mini, I eagerly agree. We drive up the coast heading North. It's difficult to describe the drive up the Coast Highway. Beautiful seems such a poor descriptor of Sonoma's natural wonder that time, wind and water have wrought.
We jump out of the car only once. We tumble back to the warmth of the Mini, chased there by cold, wet weather that reminds us both it's still nascent spring on the North Coast. The warmth of his hands and his kiss still linger as I start the car and we continue North.
Somewhere along the drive I see a sign that says the little town of Gualala is a short ride from where we are. I suggest we head there since, that part of Mendocino county has special meaning for me. Mark amiably agrees, suggesting there's a toy store there that he wants to visit.
I need no excuse to point the Mini in the direction of the Menodocino county line. Mark indicates that the toy store is up beyond town. As we crest a ridge I see what can only be described as a Russian Catherdral resting on rise. As I turn into the entrance a sign greets us with the name "St Orres".
We park and venture in. I expect to see toys lining the shelves. Instead I find a beautifully appointed lobby. An inviting bench made up of pew ends sits in front of a fire. As I look around in bewilderment, a silver haired gentleman appears, emerging from a oaken swinging door. he smiles and asks if he can assist us.
Mark intones, "yes we have reservations for 2 nights". He looks at me and a victorious smiles sweeps across his face. He's pulled it off. The surprise is complete. In that moment, in that self satisfied smile of Mark's, I realize that this birthday has been unlike any other. For the first time in more than 30 years I experience the joy of wonder.
I feel like I'm 9 again and all I want to do is weep. Instead, I follow Mark back out to my car, a silly sheepish grin on my face. We follow the directions given us by the innkeeper and we arrive at our abode for the next 2 days.
What happens next will follow in another post.....
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