"Unicorns are considered mythical, magical creatures, though some believe that they did in fact once roam the earth...Unicorns are considered virtuous and it is believed that they appear only to those with pure hearts or to those on a mission for good. Unicorns grant wishes and carry qualities of love, peace, calm, gentleness, hope, majesty and caring. Unicorns work at the soul level by helping to fulfill life’s purpose." --Diana Cooper
Asking me if I wrote today is like music to my ears. Not only is it a question of care, but it is a question of support for one of the best parts of me that usually hides in isolation. It is Mozart--invisible, soothing, verbal honey. The sweetness of these words finds its way deep down into the marrow of my tender person, to the ancient river of words within me where I usually dwell in silent, innocent and entirely unassuming aloneness.
Outwardly, I smile and tell the truth in the affirmative: Yes, I wrote today.
Inwardly, my mind wanders to all that I have not actually written...yet...
At the thought of this, my pulse speeds ahead of what my body can contain. I think of what a healer from France once told me, and look down at my feet. With a smile, I invoke the healer's suggestion to gently remind myself to keep them on the ground.
Of course, this is when the bare bulb with the broken chain suddenly turns on in the banana peeled room of my practical brain. The whir of the generator commences, and the usual worries begin to shoot from the wall like chicken nuggets: Write as much as you want, dear girl, but don't get too carried away...
Not so surprisingly, I was thinking in the shower yesterday that the person who had not yet asked this question could end up being one of the people I add to my long list of "Thank You" when the time comes to print that page. Of course, this is not simply because he has offered what he can in helping me with my computer so that I am able to do the writing that must be done. Rather, it is because he cares to know that I do this and more and he has offered what he can to assist. Without really thinking about it, he is lending me what he can in order to help me fulfill this part of my life's purpose.
(Isn't it funny how quickly things can change in a matter of days? But how did it change? Did we manage to break the spell that was put in place long before we crossed each others' path? Hmmm.)
Atop the white mound of covers on his bed, my computer is warm on my upper thighs. As I take a sip of tea, I am able to hear the wind from the finger lake below. I pause to dance with the thought that it seems as though I have finally arrived in a place that feels right just in time to leave.
But then--because it never is--I think to myself that this is not just about me or my journey alone. Instead, just as I look to my feet, I remind myself to hope that in my own extremely fragile way I have caused his heart to smile again, too.
And maybe, too....well, just maybe...I have (similarly) proven to him that women like me aren't just unicorns.