"Love and Packing"
Today. Two more days in Glenwood, then I’m off to Denver for a two-day celebration of my jubiliant, new life with my current lover; then, two days with my darling daughter Melissa and her marvelously functional family with John; then the avion at DIA, Houston, Managua, and, finally, Teote. Teotecacinte in Mayan means “kitchen of the corn god Teo,” and, believe me, it cooks in creative juices, with rampant, over-powering fertility. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Teo is actually a feminine deity, as the Jalapa Valley, breadbasket of Nicaragua, reeks of Mother energy, at least for me. Ah, well, next Friday. This must be short. All the piles-to-pack I’ve made for the last two weeks are beckoning. It’s not so bad, though: I’ve been doing this trip for fifteen years, after all.
Last night I was told by my lover, over and over, on the phone from Denver, “I love you.” How glory-hallelujah, those sounds, repeating in whispers so pleasing, so tactile beyond physicality, in the breath of Teo’s most harmonious song. Intimacy. I’m thrilled. We’ve both been very cautious of our boundaries in establishing our new relationship. Saying the “L” word has been, mostly, a bit too heavy for a very lightsome set of experiences in the past two years. Our hearts now are opening wider together in a charming, graceful way. Clearly, one reason I’ve lost so much weight lately is my renewed sexuality, after years of self-imposed celibacy. Since I’m rushed, I’ll leave it at this, the most affirmative finale: I am loved, and Teo is with me.