“Reunion”

When I was a little girl, I sat with my dad, sun streaming in on the contents of my room as he read me one of my favorite books. Innocent, curious, and unapologetic, I asked my dad only a question that a confused little girl would say: “do I have to marry my brother like you and mommy are married?” He chuckled to himself and then explained that my brother will stay my brother and that in the right time, I will choose someone who I feel is worthy of my love.

I’ve always loved love. Not the Hallmark, fairy tale kind of relationships, but the ones where you see two people staring deeply into each other’s eyes in adoration at a restaurant, or a man helping wrangle the chaos of kids as the mother holds a baby, or even an old couple holding hands as they walk into a grocery store. Our present society is so corrupted with misleading examples of relationship. From pornography, seeking quick hookups on dating apps, to even transactional gift giving “I’ll do this for you so you can do this for me”. I’ve experienced some of these and some I haven’t, but I know the pain that the container of a relationship can bring.

Since I was that little girl being explained how marriage works, I’ve dreamed of a certain man. A life partner that would approach circumstances with me as a team, love me tenderly and fiercely, and strive on his own to be a better person every day, as would I. I could distinguish his traits in novels and movies, unconsciously envisioning this human being who would not be perfect, but would show up as his best and love me unconditionally. We would strive independently and together to serve the world while also embracing this life to the fullest, prioritizing our individual connection to the divine.

A month before I left for the Pilgrimage, a really good friend introduced me to a man who was setting out to hike the Appalachian Trail. I went into it with no expectations, just looking forward to creating a friendship rooted in our mutual love for how the trail has impacted our lives. From the beginning, he was not like other young men, he didn’t want anything from me other than to get to know me as my authentic self. As a mode to help him prepare, I lent him my 200+ page AT Scrapbook I created including in-depth journal entries and pictures for everyday. This was the most vulnerable piece of myself, like handing a stranger your diary from the most transformative period in your life. I’d given others the opportunity to look at it, but they always flipped through the pages as if it was a picture book. Little did I know then, but I was giving him a piece of my soul and seeing how he would treat it. You know what he did? He vowed to guard it with his life, transporting it with care, and he read the whole thing, cover to cover. No one had ever done that. No one had ever cared enough. And that was just the start of the unveiling. Due to it being the last month I was at home, I was extremely busy with work, planning, preparing, packing, and visiting people. He would show up, in whatever capacity I needed, physically or emotionally, expecting nothing in return. He helped me process the complexity happening in my life or just talk with me for hours, intently drawing out my deepest passions and fueling the fire of the things I love by listening to and asking questions about each and every one.

His attention and unconditional support were the only clues that he shared some inkling of romantic feelings with me, because there was no flirtatious comments or physical contact. To say the least, I was confused because he was unlike any other guy I’d met.

When the opportunity arose for us to get more than a few hours together and spend New Year’s Eve with undivided attention and no interruptions, we both jumped on the chance. What happened that night is what is captured in this painting. For the first time, we completely let down the walls of not wanting to “move too fast” by admitting feelings. Once that final step was complete, a cascade of deja vu hit both of us repeatedly for hours. I can only speak of my experience, but he was literally that man I had been picturing my whole life. The way he held me in my pain and spoke to the little girl within myself with such care and compassion. The way he kissed and caressed my scars and tattoos, honoring each permanent mark on my body that has made me who I am. How he told me that he wanted to know the inside of who I was, what made me, me, before he ever put importance to the outward beauty he saw, so that I’d know my value to him came from what was internal. A flashback from a year prior came to my mind as I remembered that I had journaled about the ten qualities I wanted in a man. I found the notebook, paged to the right date, and read to him in amazement as each attribute described the person sitting in front of me that I’d gotten to know so intimately within the past month. These qualities were not just merely things that he told me he was, but they were how he lived his life and showed me through his actions.

Not only was everything so right in the present moment, we also shared the same outlook on life, approaching each moment and interaction in the world with intention. We both had passions of travel and exploring the world to the fullest, while feeling the responsibility to leave each place better than we found it. Words cannot describe the certainty of how our souls lined up perfectly.

After all those realizations, feelings, and synchronicities locked into place, the final reveal was what validated what we knew in our hearts.

He grabbed my hand, admiring my tattoos and looking at them attentively. His arm also was decorated with elaborate art that he had designed, reminding him of who he wanted to be and moments that changed his life. He said “ya know, I’ve been wondering how our tattoos connect.” In that moment, we saw the cord of our own art connect at the exact spot on his wrist where Michelangelo’s “Creation of Adam” was displayed. Earlier in the day, he had told me that was the only tattoo without meaning, he just felt like it fit perfectly in that location. The two hands connecting, just like ours were in that moment, was the exact point where our tattoos aligned like had been meant to. It was fhe final puzzle piece to this reunion.

The Sistine Chapel describes Michelangelo’s work of art as a “representation of the divine breath of life”. After meeting this man, remembering him like I’ve known him longer than this lifetime, and having so many aspects of my past lead to this exact moment, I felt like I breathed my first breath in a new paradigm, a new life.