This may almost be a love letter.

[kiya]

The rituals of the season are complete. For I have emailed my ex-boyfriend Peter to wish him a happy birthday, and gotten the traditional response.

I wish I could express why I find this so satisfying, aside from the fact that it's just one of those things that's how the universe actually works. The patterns that come with a life, the way it grows little strange and organic nodules that nonetheless flourish.

The other part of this ritual is an internal one, of sorts; looking at the threads of my life and realising the ones that he touched. Realising all of the subtle effects that lives have when they brush each other, even if only for a little while.

When I was sixteen, I was damaged, clueless, and insecure. I'd had two relationships, neither of which ended well. (Only the first of those ended catastrophically badly for me; the other one was more of a "Well, ow.") I had no idea how to go about acquiring a relationship that I might want, which, I'm sure, was painfully obvious. (At least I remember Peter hiding his face in his hands and hair rather a lot. . .)

I wound up with the exact relationship I needed to be able to start doing the repairs on my head, as it happened. A relationship that was full of amiable companionship, nicked hackysacks, pineapples, getting into MUDs through the library cataloguing computer (or something like that), playing occasional games of Magic, watching him play soccer, sharing class time in a bounteous mass of muffins . . . Normalcy (as much as someone like me could have normalcy in a relationship) and warmth and intermittent letter-writing, letters which I believe I know where are (in a lockbox in my office).

Little threads, minor threads. It's arguably Peter's "fault" that I'm poly, or that I realised it when I did, for one; just a little tiny influence on my life. Certainly one of the seeds that grew into some of my more interesting houseplants. And that lasting legacy of being just a little more sane because of that relationship than I could have been without it.

I'm glad I had him in my life. And I'm glad that even if we drift in and out of touch through the rest of the year, I remember to drop him an email on his birthday, and talk for a while, and I have him in my life again, with that lingering, contented warm fondness.


Happy birthday, Peter-love. And if you happen to read this entry, since you mentioned reading my blog, I hope I didn't embarass you too mightily. ;)


Me, with Peter's last pineapple

Cups!

Comments

[the-real-diana.livejournal.com]

Yeah, there is this certain relationship I had that was the turning point as well. Not that it was great, but it moved me on from an unhealthy relationship and severed ties with the past. Then things got worse b/4 they got better, but without going through that fire, cleansing myself of all the unhealthyiness around me I couldn't have gotten to the good stuff (Rob). You've got me thinking that I should write him a thank you letter.

After ignoring me for the rest of our college career, he came up to me a year later and apologized, but I wasn't mad or upset about it. But unconciously I always wanted him in my life when I wanted a big change, and I didn't understand that until now.

Wow girl. You really make me think.

I still send him a birthday greeting too, and I too get the typical response.

[kiya]

I'm glad my noodlings were productive for you.


Peter's and my birthdays are right next to each other -- I'm four days older. So every year we have some variant on the "Right, your birthday's around here somewhere too, isn't it?" conversation -- four days? Two days? Which one of us is older? It's Traditional. :}