copyright 2010 Sherry Bach
To My Lover Past, To My Lover Present, and To My Lover Future
An Essay Trilogy by Sherry Bach
To My Lover Past
By Sherry Bach
Essay One Of Three
Whether it was spring, summer, winter, or the season of rust, gold, red and green leaves I do not remember, but my mind took a picture of your smile, blue eyes, blonde hair and dimples on the day we met for the first time; the image often recalled when I choose to allow your memory a place to linger as I savor the sweetness of youth and innocence, that will never be forgotten no matter how many years pass. You were eight years old and the first crush I ever had; I was five and convinced in that brief moment of love at first sight, that you would be the boy that I would marry.
Our families were acquaintances and frequently we were all of a sudden together and then not, together, then apart. While in your presence, I watched you; where ever you were, I had to be, whenever you laughed, I laughed too. You were funny. When I was near you, I never thought about eating, sleeping, or the fact that I might be missing out on something else going on around me, but instead became very much aware of how alive I felt and the way my soul longed to draw out time to never ending, the avoidance of having to say good-bye. This was noticed by the adults around us and spoke of regularly, even joked about while you became somewhat annoyed at my constant pestering.
When I was eight, you were eleven and had put up with my groupie mentality for three years, becoming somewhat used to the idea that I was your biggest fan. As I watched you shoot a bb gun, your long blonde hair being tossed over away from in front of your eyes by the jerk of your head (longer hair was the style in the hippie age), I was captivated by your presence and even more delighted as you chased me, caught me and tickled me, vainly thinking that that would make me leave you alone.
Unfortunately, missing you cut deep into my mental pathways as the years passed and we grew from children into teens, still seeing each other when activities of our families brought us together, sometimes for weeks. The time we spent in each other's company was enough to want more, but never enough to be satisfied and yet, what was it I wanted? How could I, a mere child be satisfied when I did not even know of what I longed for or why? It was here that creativity was borne within my vessel by throwing emotion up on paper with a pencil assisting me in finding out the reasons and the purpose for my life, validating who I was to become.
Sensations stirred about when I was eleven; emotions I had never experienced threatened to take over my every thought, each daydream, and focus all of the energy on thinking about you, except when you were out of sight for days, or weeks. It was then that other boys would catch my attention but my heart would drop them cold as soon as I laid eyes on you at the next gathering; poor souls! They did not have a chance at capturing even a glimpse of the warmth of my heart as long as you kept coming back around; I wrote about this as well and amused myself by reading the finished product out loud.
While sitting next to you at some event, I was not able to understand what I felt as your hand brushed mine, but I did not care because I had successfully lobbied for a seat next to you; time flying by condensing two hours into ten minutes by some supernatural power.
Thirteen years old, fourteen, the years passed and still I desired to be where ever you were and stared speechless at you every chance I was given, while the camera of my mind clicked photos galore permanently filing the historical evidences in the appropriate album slot.
At fifteen, my heart's initial reaction to your existence continued to increase and mature and that year I yearned to be in your arms, but did not have a clue about what I would do if given the opportunity to be there. The only thing I knew was that you made me laugh, made me feel safe, and made me feel like I was the only girl in the room who had won your special attention; a task that seemed easy for you but difficult for other boys.
Moments in time, Christmas, camping or entire summers, nailed my heart to your chest, as sweet innocent love blossomed into the only thing I ever wanted with fervor; but the ideal would then be ripped away by reality, left bleeding fluorescent colors in the dark as I walked along the shore of the ocean, or through the woods of the mountains, stumbling through emotions trying to understand why you could not be mine forever. It did not make sense to me because I knew you loved me before you spoke the words.
The future would insist, even though it hurt like hell to turn away from you, that I force myself to learn to breathe without you; I eventually did, but the pain was too intense, the wound too deep to ever fully heal leaving behind scars where it had traversed. But being the actor I had become, I faked it just like always; nonchalantly congratulating you on your recent marriage to a woman I knew you did not love as much as you loved me. She became your lover present but I did not blame you; anyone would have understood our circumstances the same way, perhaps without so much compassion.
No other love has ever quite compared to that level of intensity or the feelings I had with you, and now, it is enough to know that you still think about those times and wonder about what could have been, what might have been, what should have been, but what will never be.
To My Lover Present
By Sherry Bach
Essay Two Of Three
The beginning seemed right enough: attraction, not at first sight but along the way because of some endearing quality, an irresistible opportunity to be loved perhaps, or just a compelling sense that you were a road I needed to travel down or was drawn to at the time. This attraction paved the way for togetherness between us, and that lure was acted upon with the sentiment of gratefulness because not everyone finds someone to love who treats them well. But you, my lover present, at some point will say or do something that will squander the deposits you have made into my emotional bank account reminding me you are mortal and not my lover past, nor my lover future and then, if we remain together, we will settle into a comfortable pattern that is neither passionate, nor high spirited and our relationship will masquerade as normal and satisfying to those who care to observe. This will take me by surprise at first but then rationalizations will be made for you because my expectations seem unrealistic and unattainable; after all, nobody finds that kind of love right? If I remain faithful to you, I will arrogantly claim that it was not always easy and that it was some great thing that I accomplished, throwing off the opportunities that frequently presented themselves.
Hardly comparable to the experience of my lover past, and unable to withstand the light or compete with the promises of my lover future, I will struggle some days to find reasons to progress forward, to fight for our existence when I know without a doubt we fall short of both the past and the future, while we stumble into some form of going through the daily motions of monotony as the new wears off and you lust after others, imagining them as you make love to me, and then lying about it telling me I am all you need.
The routine of life will take most of my breath but during the hours I can suck air in deep and be still, I question whether or not I love you or have developed a type of habit that is easier to allow than to break. We both know the answer but you pretend not to because severing our relationship would mean that you would all of a sudden be alone and your whole life would be different and that thought is unbearable for your soul to comprehend in the middle of a busy life, especially after having me around this long, with this much history between us; it is just easier to maintain the status quo.
This phenomenon of existence goes round and round, on and on, as the actors and actresses are occasionally re-cast by a director holding a script never read by those of us who audition for the parts. It is only after the last act of a play or when it has been pulled for poor sales, that assessments can be made as to whether or not the quality of the experience was worth the cost of the ticket, with most left wondering, asking out loud the question: "What in the hell was I thinking?"
But as I hear your car pull in the drive at the end of the day, there is a perplexing comfort that you are home, at least until it gets to the point that everything you do and say irritates me or works to make me want to cringe. I can keep this cycle up for quite awhile, for years, possibly forever, without even as much as one clue forming in your head that I contemplate leaving on a daily basis. I might leave eventually, when or if the comfort turns to agony which it undoubtedly will because you are neither my lover past, nor my lover future and I was built to follow my heart which is deceitful and false premises usually lead to false conclusions.
Sometimes, little by little, I let slight indications slip in, so that when the time is right, and if I choose to act on it, you will not be totally surprised that I am gone. Although, finding validation for my desire to disappear escapes me and breeds guilt because you are not an ogre. Still, timing in this game of disseminating hints is an intricate process that most likely will drive a person insane. Most confess that it is the reason why they give up at some obscure point, the trash not taken out, a wet toilet seat or a burnt dinner, confusing their partner about the motives behind their departure; when in fact they have been steadily gaining momentum in a rolling downhill sensation since the first breach of promises but were just too cowardly or comfortable to leave. In this case, to a bystander it is plain to see from the outside looking in that not enough indications were revealed for any predictions to be made.
On the other hand, I might choose to stay forever; a lifetime of believing or pretending, that this is as good as it gets with the unknown road seemingly too scary to walk alone. With this choice I would almost certainly develop a type of cancer, or physical ailment that would affect my quality of life and may require your undivided attention for the rest of yours. Then again, I might accept it all, summing it up to living and moving on without incident.
If you, my lover present, were all bad, I would not vacillate between staying or leaving because exiting would be easier but that is what confounds me; there are enjoyable times throughout our cohabitation and in all likelihood, we have learned how to please each other physically by now. We have also invented and spoken aloud justifications for being in each other's lives that actually make sense and afford tolerable acceptance of the situation, which makes it easier to stay than to go.
To My Lover Future
By Sherry Bach
Essay Three Of Three
With the same innocent faith and love I had for my lover past, but without the collapse of passion of my lover present, my heart leaps forward into your promises that will never fail me; it delights in never having to wonder whether or not you will be mine or whether or not you wish you were with someone else. There is no speculation about your intentions, your faithfulness, or your words that are purified by fire and glow with diamonds. Assurance and truth line the entire fiber of your existence and seek out every breath I take, every thought I imagine, every word I speak dividing my soul and my spirit. The more I get of you, my lover future, the more I want; and the more I want, the more you give. The more you give, the deeper I fall; it is a perpetual motion that has no end.
Unlike my lover past, fear will not stop you from being near me. In fact, boldness and courage surround you. Unlike my lover present, I will not doubt your promises but instead will expect that your excellent kept promises will validate the meaning of why I breathe and you will not let me down.
You did not wait for me to love you. No! You came after me first with eagerness, chasing me to the very corners of my wretched life revealing your attractive plan for us to be together forever at just the right time and in just the right way, so that I could see the width and length, depth and height of your love for me, convincing me that it compared to none.
With gentleness, longsuffering, and loveliness you courted me in hopes of winning my affection. Oh! How you delight in my affection for you but get jealous of others tolerating no rivals, and rightly so, for I have a tendency to wander, following my desperately wicked heart toward other lovers. But your grace tastes so sweet that with the tender reminder from the touch of your hand, I gladly redirect my love toward the source of all certainty and confess my weakness, falling into your arms of forgiveness where you transform my defeats into victories.
My heart feels safe with you and I am clay in your hands; do with me what you will my potter, my one true love. You make my paths like the shining sun; their brightness leading to a perfect day. There has never been another lover who cherished me more, one who would fight so diligently for my companionship, or one who burns with vengeance for the wrongs done to me.
You do not put out my lamp by night but continually refill it with oil, illuminating the darkest of rooms. Between the slightest crevices your light shines through and reaches to the very bottom of my soul.
While the grass withers and the flowers fade, your light and your love grows stronger for me causing me to look for you, seek you out, and be near you, making you yearn for more of my love. Allowing nothing to ruin our relationship, you will do everything in your power to preserve it, your devotion and mercy always winning my love in the end.
Taking on the scars of my lover past you will turn them into beautiful colors that spill out over my life bleeding into the lives of those I come in contact with as a balm of prevention useful for their insight. Binding up the broken promises and lies of my lover present you wrap them tight and use them as kindling in a fire that keeps me warm on a cold night. With you there is no waste, nothing left undone, no evil left untransformed into good and life with you excites me, quickens me, fills me with joy and meaning.
When you say you will never leave me or forsake me I believe you for nothing is too hard or impossible for you. When you say that you are working all things for my good, I believe you, for you have already proven it. I am the apple of your eye, on your mind constantly, and nothing can separate me from your love, neither death nor life, nor height nor depth, nor things present nor things to come and the assurance you give by this seals my confidence around the pleasure of knowing you.
As I assess my lovers, I realize that my desire all along was for your one true love, my lover future, but because my spirit is not yet pure and free from the body or the attached lust and desires of my heart, it was predictable that I would play out my innate craving to love and be loved with my lover present. So strong is this hunger that you have placed in me in hopes that it would drive me to find you, that I sensed the pull on me as a young child with my lover past but my lover past and my lover present are only a glimpse of what I have with you. Ah! At last I understand my perfect true love. You are mine, I am yours and we will be together forever.
