I recently had the privilege of meeting a fellow writer. This is a rarity for me, as writers are rather solitary creatures, not given to running in packs (except to Starbucks). Come to think of it...I've not met one since school!
I was curious as to what I would see...a mirror in which I could see my own motivations? A tormented genius, holding desperately and joyously to life by the fingernails, while taking deep draughts of life's most intoxicatingly pure nectar?
Or perhaps a cool professional, seeing the novel as Khayyam's chess game, with characters that move, mate and slay, and back in the closet one day lay?
What I met was a lovely and vivacious person, of friendly smile and sparking eye, who put me at ease with a manner that was both humble and exalted. A person of royal blood and common touch, whom I'd just met and had known forever.
It didn't matter that I'd met a writer. It means the world that I met a friend.
I have tried to form into words how I felt meeting the elder of my two brothers. You have formed the thoughts that my heart and mind couldn't find.
ReplyDeleteI watched the sacrifice unfold, the one you made to come to the table and sit, your back to the room with the ghosts dancing all around you. I saw it in your eyes, and the eyes of your beautiful warrior.
I cannot thank you enough for the gift you gave me. I know it was a sacrifice in the purest sense of the word. I am humbled to know a person would give so much, just to meet me.
I came away from that time with a sense that we 3 had formed a small army.
There will be beauty from the ashes that float in the air around you.
It was a deep honour to meet you.
And my dear, dear friend, if I am of royal blood, then you, sir, are the warrior at the gates who carries the true burden and has the purest valor. You and your princess both.
ReplyDeleteI - we - are so moved, and so grateful. Truly a day touched by Grace.
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