like an olive branch?

well maybe not exactly, but it was such a poetic descriptor.  i’ve landed back in denver on the coattails of a fight between my friend and her housemates.  from what i gather it was pretty ugly.  it makes sharing a space with them awkward and all sorts of tense.  and today, on my first day back, lesley left for work at 7:30 in the morning and won’t get back until about the same time tonight.  so i’m left to fend for myself.

i woke with her this morning, groggy and in my underwear, chatting as she got ready and the rest of the house slept.  and then when she left i crawled back into bed and fought through my anxieties to sleep a little longer.  around nine i awoke to the door of my room closing quietly.  thinking i was too sleepy to actually process the world, i rolled back over.  about fifteen minutes later, kylie, growing tired of waiting for me to wake, came into the room and into bed with me.  we laid around together, spending much of the morning together while her parents slept.  just like we did before i left, before all the fights, before all the tension.

kylie is the six year old daughter of lesley’s housemates.  she and i fell in love instantly when i came out to visit a few months ago and this morning it was so sweet to see that our relationship was unchanged by the bitterness she’d witnessed.  and i texted lesley to tell her so, describing kylie as an olive branch.  lesley questioned the description and i explained further that kylie is the only one among us who knows better.  that as adults we let all of this crazy stuff stand between our connections, that we grow up into less honest things.  for me, kylie is a piece of peace extending across the new divide in the house.

and i am reminded of the magic in children, am humbled by their honesty.  reminded that i want to spend my life learning from them, staying connected to those pieces of myself.  and of course, i’m not saying there’s never anything to the fights, the differences, the meanness adults put between each other, but we so easily hide behind all of those things and lose a little bit of ourselves and others.  it’s tragic to witness.  if only we could all be kids again.


3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. paxus
    Feb 23, 2011 @ 06:10:37

    i like being a big kid with you.
    i like playing with my now 9 year old kid with you
    the shape of my life is cooler
    the set of my experiences richer, wilder
    and as it turns out
    my toes just slightly longer
    because of you


  2. Sara Tansey
    Feb 23, 2011 @ 17:59:59

    i like being a kid more than an adult
    i like playing with you and willow
    and seeing you both as “the boys”
    and wrestling in all different beds

    i love you boys.


  3. paxus
    Feb 24, 2011 @ 05:47:45



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