The power of love

Over the years... so many years it seems... I've time and again sacrificed a personal, romantic and social life for the cause.   Over the last few years it has been harder and harder to make that sacrifice.  I've been noticing physical signs of getting older... faint "smile lines" at the corners of my eyes, and a subtle thinning of my once thick mane... a woman about a decade older than me saw me at my sister's wedding a few weeks ago after not having seen me for a few years.  She shocked me with what she intended as a compliment--and it was something I'd never been told before--she said, "you're aging nicely."  What???

Sure, there are people who still guess my age as mid to late twenties (I'm 35), but just the past year or so, I've realized... time is leaving it's mark.  And it has scared me or awakened me.  I've always told myself that there will be plenty of time for play and romance, once the cause takes off and is financially sound.

Well, over the past 11 months, I've put myself through the extra heavy duty wash cycle with women and romance.  I've settled a lot of what was previously unsettled.  The loneliness and longing... the physical pain of it... the inner warnings that I'm missing out on an important part of life... no longer come as often or stay as long.

Over the past 9 months I've come to know a very special woman.  She's overwhelmed me with a love and compassion unlike any I've known from any woman with the exception of the woman who gave me birth.  I've come to love her like one of my sisters (not like "a" sister--few people in the world I'd guess share kind of love I do with my sisters)... it's the kind of love that, were she to disappear from my life, I could utter the cliche with total sincerity, "I cannot live without her."

Given the fairy tales I grew up with, this should perhaps be "the one."  And indeed, I've been tempted to step into the role of the knight who sweeps her off her feet, and is willing to sacrifice any of his own desires for the forever relationship we could share.  For years I've considered myself "not ready" for such a commitment.  Not ready, because there was a lot of catching up to do--a lot of play and freedom to be had before I "settle."

Of course, I'm also committed to "the cause"--so committed, in fact, that the typical kind of committed romantic relationship with me would be quite the challenge for any woman--and for myself.  I don't like doing things half way--and were I to be a husband or a father, I'd want to be the best.  So, for this reason too, I've never seen myself as "ready"--or the type to have the traditional kind of committed romantic relationship.

I've always been a hopeless romantic.  I've always fantasized about the most incredible of romantic relationships.  And with this woman, I could see the impossible made real.

If my life thus far were a romance movie, this last weekend might be the climax.  What path to take? 

I realized something.  Realize is not the word I'm looking for.  It was a deep sense of knowing that came from wrestling with the issue.

Saturday night I'd attended a fundraiser for the school in Africa which I visited in June.  I was a scheduled speaker--nothing fancy, I was just to say a few words.  As I entered the museum, where the event was held, my heart was torn in two.  I couldn't imagine a life without this woman and was dealing with the very real possibility that she might cease to exist in the way she has for me.

I was being expected to smile, laugh, network and speak... and it was all I could do to hold myself together.  Every 15 minutes or so, I'd go outside to take a long stroll, breathe some fresh air, get myself together.

The night wore on and at some point I made my way into a back room where there were photos hanging on the wall.  Photos of the little Kenyan orphan girls I'd come to know this summer.  My eyes welled up as I looked into each of their eyes.  I couldn't stop smiling.

Then, I walked back out into the event... it was a big production--an African band, auctioned art work, etc.  I looked at all these people, most of whom had never met these girls.  They'd given so much of their time--many of them had given years--to make that school exist... Others were donating their money to the school... I was so overcome with love, I could barely contain myself.

Later, I got a chance to speak alongside the woman who created the Africa trip and ventured with me.  By then people were leaving, and they'd already been asked again and again by previous speakers to give more money.  Still, I tried my best to share my experience and to speak on behalf of the Kenyan students.  Many, it seemed, were busy saying their goodbyes and my words were falling on deaf ears.

So, I spoke louder.  And louder still.  I wanted them to know these children.  I was a voice for them, and I wanted everyone to listen.  Our time was brief on stage and I left feeling quite incomplete.

As I wandered throught the streets of downtown Austin, in and out of a few night clubs, I couldn't escape the pain I still felt inside.  I was approached by a few beautiful women and I just didn't care talk.  I soon made my way to my car and then back to my office to think and to work on the most recent Africa project.  Within minutes, there was a knock on the door.  It was her. 

to be continued...