Thursday, June 21, 2001

An excerpt from the autobiography of an anonymous author

The sweetest thing he ever said to me was this: "I guess I have to thank you for showing me it was possible to love again, to feel again. I know now what it means to trust another man, to trust completely and without reservation. Your compassion and your...passion are a gift, and I am so lucky you have given them to me."

And we sat there in the light of the flickering candles, and we cried a little, and I said, for the first time, "I love you very much" and he sniffed and said, "I love you too" and we held each other for a very long time.

And then he left that night, just walked out the door and never really came back, although we saw each other every day and talked on the phone for hours at a time and said absolutely nothing of consequence to each other. He walked out the door and took with him my trust, compassion, passion and ability to love and feel without reservation, and to say "I love you very much".

And I've only just begun to get them back, a little at a time, without anyone's help. Because the only gifts that really count, that you can really count upon, are the ones you give to yourself.