The moon

Tonight the full moon does its thing in full view or behind the intermittent clouds. Today I had my car towed unjustly, missed church, paid a mere (yet painful) $40 to get it back, did four loads of laundry, had dinner with my parents, and saw The Revenge of the Sith. People have been driving crazily today; this seems to happen with every full moon. I left the movie at about 8:30 feeling oddly unsettled, like I had skipped class on the day of a test or I had forgotten the birthday of somebody close. Now that feeling hangs on by the skin of its teeth, though I have beaten it largely away with Celis Grand Cru. Right now my CD player is hanging on a song, trying to play it and failing. Damn you, full moon.

Yesterday, however, was a fabulous day. I awoke at 8:30, made myself pancakes and coffee, chatted a bit online, cleaned and straightened my apartment, and then went to Fair Hill with Merry for a lovely walk through the woods, water, and fields. This included the removal of shoes and socks and wading in a stream, and the examination of a bizarre, vaguely Easter-themed shrine built into a shallow cave. The shrine boasted a cross, a stuffed bunny, a stuffed cat, and number of odd little items whose nature I cannot recall. Our hunger was slaked at Los Caporales, and our entertainment needs fulfilled by Blade Runner and Arvo Pärt (in succession), accompanied by Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier and Lindemans Framboise Lambic. I'll give you one guess who drank which.

Merry is truly the greatest blessing in my life in quite some time.The story begins out of order, at the end of this past March. Some close friends of mine concocted a scheme to bring Merry and I together. If you allow me to back up again, this time about fifteen years, you will learn that the first time that Merry and I met was through Merry's sister, who at the time was dating one of my (still, even today) best friends. At that time Merry and I talked a bit, but she was thirteen when I was sixteen, and I cannot say that we were close. Ten years ago was the last time that Merry and I spoke before this past March, when we resume the story, this time in proper order. My aforementioned friends presented their idea that I should meet Meredith, and though I hadn't spoken to her in ten years, and I was not feeling particularly disposed to the idea of dating, something within my spirit said, "That sounds like a great idea." My mouth said the same.

Now, after nearly two months that have passed in the blink of an eye, and which have included dates, shooting stars, church, Spongebob, a broken-down car, a little road trip, and a concert, I can say that I have found a remarkable companion. We share quite a bit, though we have plenty of differences to keep things interesting. Just this past Wednesday, as we lay on a blanket beneath the moon, Merry said to me, "We don't have a lot in common," and I laughed because we do have a lot in common, including our views on church, God, relationships, honesty, music, movies, and foods we like. Our differences lie in areas that are mostly tangental, such as how we categorize favorites, whether or not we have best friends, whether hiking is fun or is an utter drag, and whether spiders are cute or scary.

So what makes Merry a remarkable companion? I could say that it is difficult to know where to begin, but really it is not. It is more difficult to know where to end. Merry is a kind person, not in the sense of simply expressing kind things, but rather that her expression is always honest, and that honest expression shows a great deal of kindness. She has definite feelings about people she likes or does not like, but she does not make unduly fast judgments. She does not let an innocently mislaid comment, an unfortunate circumstance, or a simple mistake sway her judgment. The judgments she makes are built over time and are made with thought and heart. Her heart is powerful, and those she loves, she loves fervently. She has definite opinions, but is not afraid of ideas that may conflict with or complicate those opinions.

I think that one of my favorite things about Merry is that she does not disguise herself in order to make an impression. She is who she is at all times, and this allows me to also be myself. I don't often have a hard time saying things about myself, but I tend to sculpt my behavior to the situation I am in. I often feel like people make judgments based on signs and indicators, and this makes me afraid to be myself, as if I might accidentally do something or say something that would lead to an imperturbable conclusion. With Merry, I feel that I can simply be myself spontaneously, and I do not need to screen myself. I just allow my self to flow naturally from me, and there it is, and she still likes me.

Writing about Merry feels like writing about the strokes in a painting. I am a dissector, one who breaks things down into their components in order to describe them and understand them, but with her I cannot do ths. Well, honestly, maybe I could, given a few days of free time. But I don't feel like that is necessary. I will paint in broad strokes and leave the details up to the future.