To Rachel-Lou Salome

I wish you were that soul mate I always wanted…

But you’re my shaman soul sister. There is a great love between us, but it is not of romance. It’s old school, a little on the pagan side. That Aristotle love—of the mind; soulful, maybe even a little Christian in its sacrifice.

I see now the years will pass…

But our friendship will be a constant. One of the few things we both can count on. You will read many pages of mine, and I will hear many secrets of yours. The trust and love we have will grow stronger, and you will get stronger. You will get even more beautiful becoming that woman I always envisioned when I fantasized about you–before I knew what I would be to you.

You are going to meet a man…

And he will give you the passion and strength that I could never bring out in you, as every time I’ll see you, there will be this new look of love that was always missing in your eyes. You will embrace it in spite of your usual scared self. You will say he is the one and you’ll end up writing your best work. You will even quit smoking and eat healthy. Months later, he will propose to you, and you will cry when he puts on the ring on your finger because you feel happy for the first time.

You will be so in love and happy except…

That you will hear less and less from your shaman soul brother. As the man of your dreams, will find our relationship strange and I’ll notice the look of jealousy a man only in love can have. Seeing you happy, seeing you loved, seeing you finally in a good place, all I’ll want is to make sure those eyes you love to look at–never think of leaving you.

You are going to love your wedding…

Your dad is going to dance the way you always made fun of me for dancing and all your family will be there; your mom will be so proud of you for finding such a great guy and that your writing is finding an audience. It will be picture-perfect; you will be so dazzled by it all that you’ll barely notice that I didn’t make it. I will be somewhere, probably a bar, happy for you but wishing I was the one who said those vows.

You will love your Honeymoon…

He will take you to Europe, like you always wanted. You will stay in a cheap hotel in Italy enjoying the culture you always made of fun of me for liking: as you relax, make love, and write. On your third day there you will be doing your Morning Pages that I finally got you to do while he’s out jogging–you know, doing what hot guys do. You’ll get to page three and be interrupted by a room service pisan saying hey ‘scholarina, I brought food.’

You will pay him, shut the door, and realize you miss me…

A memory will come when we decided to be friends and I christened you Dorkarina and we got so drunk that night. We ended up back at your place where we showed the worst and best of ourselves–telling each other things we never told anyone else. We ended up talking about love and family and what love really meant and I told you that if you really love somebody, no matter how much you enjoy them, how much they inspire you, how important they are in your life, if it meant their life would be better without you– you would say goodbye.



2 Comments on “To Rachel-Lou Salome”

  1. joewade February 12, 2012 at 3:57 am #

    Sounds painful.


  1. gotta gotta gotta write write write | Mental Ephemera - February 14, 2012

    […] a spur-of-the-moment blurting-out of thoughts—a reaction to @ChristophNYC’s recent piece paying homage to Rachel Lou-Salome (i first learned of her reading Yalom’s When Nietzsche Wept, an […]

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