Tuesday, January 26, 2016


I Am Home
A personal story of me
 
I just found this story, written many years ago, and decided to share.
 
I am a psychic, an intuitive, and I work with clients all the time to help them with their future, their love life, their career and just about anything else they can imagine they need to work on.  But, this is now.  Not back then, back when I was 25.  When I was 25 I was an accountant and single.

            I never had a father to teach me what it meant to be around men.  I never had parents as role models to show me what love was supposed to be.  I had a caring and compassionate mom, and a loving, yet busy sister, and a brother who operated under his own set of rules.  I didn’t know what true love was supposed to feel like.

            I didn’t know even on my first date with the man I would marry what real love, love that transcends time and space and follows you from lifetime to lifetime was supposed to feel like.  I didn’t know until that one day, the day that would change my life forever.

            It was as ordinary a day as any other.  The sun was shining, and a warm breeze spread over the beach as I watched the local men’s softball game from the stands.  I was there with my girlfriend Cheryl and we were just killing time, soaking up the sun on this beautiful day.  We could taste the dust from the field as it covered us slightly, the air off Long Island Sound picking it up and carrying it almost as if sharing a part of the game with us, the fans.

            We were talking about nothing of any value, nothing even remotely worth remembering.  That was us; comfortable without needing to make conversation.  Then, Tom pulled up to the curb on a brand new motorcycle.  Kawasaki green, purring as only sports bikes do, rider and steed shining under the light from the sunshine.  No big deal, just a friend.

            I met Tom in high school.  He was not anyone that would’ve hung out with my crowd; we were just different.  As a matter of fact we never even saw each other.  Or at least that’s what I thought.  Apparently, he came into my classroom regularly, to look at me, to be close to me.  I never noticed and he never approached me.

            We met again, years later, when I was 25 and newly single from a relationship that was something I now realize held my place, kept me in the perfect space and time for what was to come.  We met, again, through the help of Cheryl and Laura, when they dragged me to the bowling alley.

            “Just come, you’ll have fun!” they told me as they figuratively twisted my arm and literally threw me into their car.

            “Fine, but I’m only coming this one time,” I acquiesced, “and you are definitely buying a couple pitchers tonight!” 

            When we got to the lanes Tom was there, coincidentally bowling on the same team as my girlfriends, excited and eager to re-introduce himself.

            “Tom, this is….” Laura started.

            “I know who it is.  It’s Melanie!” Tom interrupted.  “We went to school together!”

            “Right, I remember.  Hi, Tom, how are you?” and the conversation began and continued of and on for about two months.  That’s when I agreed to go out to dinner with him, just as friends.

            Mario’s had amazing Italian food that night and we talked for hours, driving around until about two in the morning.  When I gave him a kiss on the cheek at the end of the evening to thank him, as any good friend would after a friendly dinner, he lit up like a little boy at Christmas time.  I still had no idea what was to come.

            So here he was, weeks after our platonic night out, on a brand new motorcycle he had told me he wanted to buy when we were eating that dinner.  I had told him I loved bikes, I loved to ride them myself.

            He waited at the curb on his bike, watching me walk over.

            “Are you gonna take me for a ride?” I asked.

            “Sure!  I told a couple other people I would give them rides first and then I’ll be back, ok?” he answered with a smile.

            “All right, don’t keep the girls waiting!” I joked of the others I knew he had promised.  Still I felt nothing.  No vibes, no energy; just a guy that I was friends with on a cool new bike. 

            I walked back and continued watching the game with Cheryl until it ended.  No Tom, no bike. 

            “Let’s wait a little while longer,” I told her and we sat for another 15 minutes, but still nothing.  There was no flash of fluorescent green, no sound of a wound up engine.

            We started walking over to Cheryl’s red Mustang.  “Can I drive?” I asked her.

            “Sure, I just want to stop and grab something to eat,” she answered. 

            Just as we were about to step off the grass onto the parking lot Tom pulled up.  With a smirky like smile he said, “Have you been waiting long?”

            “The game ended about 15 minutes ago; I got tired of waiting!” I answered.  “It’s about time you showed up!”  I replied with a laugh.

            “Oh, well here, hop on,” he said with a grin and you could just tell he was happy to have made me wait.  Not because he was mean, but because he wanted me jealous.  He wanted me to love him.  I didn’t.  I didn’t feel anything like that.  I didn’t have any warning bells or psychic signals or puppy dog eyes.  He did; he was puppy dogged out.

            “Right.  Um, Cheryl, do you mind?  We’ll just go around the parking lot,” I tell her as I start getting on the back.  Totally innocent.  Just friends.

            “No problem, but if you’re not back in 10 minutes I’m leaving to go get food! I’m hungry!”  she laughed.

            “All right, I’ll be right back.”

            I had no idea I would be longer than five minutes.  I had no idea this one ride would change my life.  I had no idea it would last forever.  I had no warning, no bells, no psychic vibes.  I had nothing, but Tom knew.  He knew way back in high school.

            I put my arms around him and my world changed.  I experienced a feeling I had never felt before, in all my 25 years.  I felt like I’d just come home.  In that moment, no, that very second that I wrapped my arms around him I knew life was never going to be the same again.  I felt as though everything I’d lived for, everything I’d done my entire life and many lives before had led me to that very minute in time. 

            I was in love and I was home.  He moved in that afternoon, weight bench and a basketful of clothes followed less than two weeks later, and he never moved out.  That was 16 years and two beautiful and incredible daughters ago. 

            Through all of our financial woes, the deaths of our parents and the changing from one extreme to the other in our careers, we love each other.  I am home, and I will be home no matter where we are, as long as I can put my arms around him.

He came inside just now, from his cabinetmaking shop in the backyard.  Over the past weekend he had asked me when I psychically saw him getting the next job.  He told me that he had just gotten off the phone with someone who’s name started with the letter “J” as I had said it would and that he got a new job today, Tuesday, just like I foretold.

“That’s like predicting the lotto, Hon! That’s crazy; sick!  You are amazing!” he tells me of my psychic abilities.  “You should be on TV!  You give me goose bumps!”

            “No, Hon,” I think to myself, “you’re sick.  You knew we were supposed to be together in high school.  You felt it then.”

            To Tom I say instead, “We rock, baby!  I love you!”  I wrap my arms around him and it feels like home.

 

2 comments:

  1. A beautiful, moving story. It renews my faith in what is possible that we aren't even aware of. Love ~ feeling like home ~ wonderful.

    ReplyDelete