Blue Moon
- Operator
- Jun 11
- 10 min read
Updated: 5 days ago
the Nothing
A conversation I had decades ago has been kept safely in my backpack of memories.
It is an old memory, with the cover missing, sand tattered pages to show it was read.
Most of her words have been lost, but the closeness I felt has remained.
Kindred spirits are the rarest of all encounters.
The conversation I kept was about what we do with unfinished paintings.
"Start over, learn from them."
"Even the worst painting have value," she said with sadness.
Her eyes held a truth that carried more than her words.
She would later share with me what she meant.
the Eternity
There are three women who changed my course in life.
The first was the moon, the most sincere, who taught me about forgiveness.
The second was the earth, the most loving, who showed me compassion.
The third was the sun, the most beautiful who tested my faith in myself.
The last, my wife, helped me discover that words only have power if they are believed.
She proved to me the most important lesson in life.
Things must be tested, including trust.
I was far too naive.
the Duality
My mind would recall my friend's words from time to time, though not often.
We shared many moments together during my last summer at the university.
I hadn't thought of her for years, until recently.
The past and present can shift back and forth, through the fabric of memory.
I kept hearing her words about forgiveness, which helped me sail through a devastating tempest in my life.
I was breaking away from my wife's words, who was trying to pull me back onto rocky shores.
I had stopped listening to her a long time ago, but I needed to go towards a voice I trusted.
It was Blue Moon, my sincerest friend,
It was her words from the past which lead me to safety, and reminded me of the trust we shared.
Her words traveled through the fabric of memory.
Her words saved me from becoming completely cynical.
My experience with her reminded me someone like her exists.
the Trinity
I call her the Moon because that is how I think of her, a beautiful force of nature that pulled me towards her.
I have never been so drawn to someone, since or after.
If it hadn't been my first year with painting, who knows, I might have asked her for a dance.
I have rarely been so charmed.
She was enchanting.
She told me something about herself that I will never forget.
I felt fortunate she trusted me.
My moments with her were of two friends exchanging stories that longed to be told.
For me, they were first stories told to another.
I felt safe around her to be myself.
I relaxed and just spoke what was on my mind.
She was my best friend, even if she didn't know that was how I felt about her.
I know.
I cherished every moment with her.
She was an amazing friend, and one I hope to find again in another.
the Doubt
Trust is a gift.
In my many travels,
I have met them.
Them.
Not all,
or most,
but some.
They follow their own ways.
Another's path is their own.
I learned the hard way.
Trust is a gamble.
You have to fold often.
There are players that will keep raising the stakes and never show their cards.
When trust is given, it is not always returned safely.
My experience did not make me bitter, in fact the opposite.
I am more hopeful, but not when it comes to trust.
One and done.
To give unconditional trust is too sacred a gift.
The temptation for some, when received, is too great.
Rewards await those that receive unconditional trust, even between husband and wife.
the Joy
I doubt my friend thinks of me now, but for one summer I must have been on her mind.
She visited me a lot.
I was surprised she did.
She broke up with my roommate and I figured she would stop coming by.
It was my first year painting in my first studio.
I was busy practicing and studying, but I always made time for her.
Whenever I heard the knock on the door from her, I was always happy to see her.
After my first studio, I learned that you can take it anywhere.
A studio is not just a place or location, it is way of thinking.
It is a mindset.
I have carried my first studio with me everywhere I go.
My regret was that I didn't keep my friend with me.
I would have enjoyed her company in my life, instead of just the one year we shared.
Kindred spirits are the rarest of finds.
I was too lucky to have met her so early in my life.
the Beauty
The house where I lived had a window that led out to the roof.
It had a great view, with a cool breeze to take the heat away, and a different perspective on life.
I loved that view.
I would look up at the sky often and think how lucky I was to have those moments.
My friend called them roof talks.
She would just say, "Let's go up."
I would just smile and be happy to be alone with her.
When it got too noisy downstairs, we would go to our spot.
It was always the two of us, a secret spot where our friendship was forged.
I wish I could remember our talks, but it has been too long.
Sometimes we would stay outside until the morning sunrise, with fresh chirping to remind us to get back inside.
As strange as this sounds, she is probably the only person I was myself.
There was no other person like her.
I try to remember her more, because if I meet another like her, I will be ready.
I won't miss my chance again.
All my relationships were made from a reply to an advance.
For someone like her, if I ever get a knock on the door from someone like her, it will be different.
I will treat her like a second chance.
Kindred spirits are the rarest of finds because you reveal your true Self.
I made a mistake of never reaching out to her once the summer was over.
I should have been a better friend.
the Secret
I had a roommate, Siobhan, who said, "I love him, but I am his first."
"He doesn't know what he has."
"I keep telling him we are right for each other, but he just nods and says yeah."
She was annoyed when I asked how things were going with the new guy.
She continued, "We are amazing together, but I can tell he doesn't think so."
"I will most likely lose him."
"Maybe you need to tell him more?" I suggested.
Siobhan directed her annoyance at me,
"You can't just keep telling someone to be something."
"They have to experience it for themselves."
"I drew the short end of the straw by being his first real relationship," she complained.
My roommate chuckled to herself.
"I am his training wheels when I should be his forever pick."
"Mark, I think he is going to break up with me," she stopped laughing when she said that.
"So it's like Goldilocks?" I mused.
"What?" she was confused.
"You have to try the one who is too soft, which is too comfortable."
"Then you try the one that is who is too hard, which is too uncomfortable."
"Finally, after experiencing the two opposite ends, you know what comfort means to you."
She laughed, but continued to complain.
She was right.
He broke up with her.
He had nothing to compare her against and didn't want to settle with his first relationship.
I don't blame him, I did the same thing.
I couldn't have asked for a kinder girlfriend, Linda.
Her kindness spoiled me.
When you feel genuine love, you never forget.
She was my training wheels.
Timing often has everything to do with success.
Three is the magic number.
After second time, you have something to compare.
the Nomad
I have always been lucky.
I found my balance of luck later in life.
I learned that trust needs to be tested all the time, not just the first time.
It made me realize my mistakes I made with Linda.
I took advantage of her patience.
She was waiting for me to start my career and I didn't have any ambition to start.
I just wanted to paint, and then I lost interest even with that.
I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life after I stopped painting.
Her unconditional trust she gave was too great for me.
The fault was my own.
I could not match the trust she placed in me.
I failed the Test.
My memory of my time with her are filled with regret.
Life is balance and the pendulum swung the other way for me.
I had to give back from what I took and return the compassion towards Isa.
Without my first experience, I don't know if I could have stayed positive.
I learned how to forgive, as Linda must have often done for me.
I forgave my wife and moved outside her space, so that I would no longer have to forgive her anymore.
To forgive the unforgiveable was the Test I passed.
I had nothing more I could learn from Maria Isabel Williams.
I was getting bored forgiving her.
They were piling up and I needed to move on.
As far as I am concerned, my debt of wrongs I did was paid in full, and then some.
I needed to get my luck back on track.
the Scale
It was always easy to talk to my friend, sincerity without effort, honesty without intention.
It was during a long walk through the park, late at night, that she shared a story about forgiveness.
We stopped at an empty bench.
The conversation naturally flowed to a place where she must have felt safe.
She told me a truth she was carrying.
She was vulnerable when she shared her story.
She did not hesitate, but I could tell she was expecting the worst.
My friend looked relieved when I believed her.
I believed her.
She was not the type to exaggerate for sympathy.
She never complained.
the Forgiveness
I tried to make sense of what she told me.
I didn't fully understand then, but I tried.
After she finished her story, I asked,
"How could you forgive?"
She answered,
"To not forgive would have destroyed me."
"It was horrible to feel that anger towards someone."
"It changes you, twists you so you don't suffer by causing suffering."
She paused, "I didn't want to hate anyone."
"I think to hold onto that in your life empties your soul."
"I needed to heal," she sighed.
"I could not bear the suffering, which kept repeating."
"I just couldn't bear the anger…" her voice drifted sadly into the Void of Nothing.
"Did you get an apology?" I asked.
She looked at me with a sad smile, and nodded.
"I accepted the apology, but the truth is, it didn't matter."
“How can it not matter?” I asked, not understanding.
“When trust is broken you don't need to believe them."
"You don't want to keep forgiving them by placing your trust in them again."
She shrugged, "I forgave."
"I didn't need anything after that."
"Did you tell anyone else?" I asked.
She nodded her head and said, "Yes."
"It was too painful for them to believe."
"They did not believe."
"They could not believe."
"It was too late anyway," she said sadly.
"Too late?" I asked, confused.
"Too late for it to matter."
"The truth remains the truth, no matter the disbelief."
"It doesn't matter if it is believed or not."
"Are you okay now?" I asked.
She nodded.
She gave her first genuine smile after telling me her story.
It was like the light at the end of the tunnel.
"I am."
"I don’t think about it often."
"All I can do is accept that it happened and not allow it to happen again."
“I forget sometimes, to be honest.”
"How can you forget such a thing?" I was shocked.
"Life goes on."
"As time passes, it no longer defines who you are."
"I don't want tragedy to define who I am, or who I become."
the Muse
That conversation is finally closed with my understanding of what she meant.
I never forgot because I could never grasp how she would forgive such a thing.
Once I experienced the same thing, I understand.
I now carry a story of a similar experience, and hope to meet a friend that will listen as I did.
The bitter hardship grow sweeter with time.
There was nothing easy about accepting.
It is not done in half measures.
I had to accept fully and let go.
I was being anchored, even if I felt justified.
The tempest in my mind grew stronger the more I asked why..
I knew why my wife did the things she did.
That is all I needed to know.
I can only judge myself.
The fault was my own for trusting in my, no matter if she gets away with the crime. The punishment may be avoided, but the crime is eternal.
The hardest climb is accepting harm done.
It went against every instinct I had, to forgive the unforgivable, without an explanation.
My friend's' words helped me understand the reward for forgiveness.
It is not done out of weakness, or even out of strength.
I forgave with full measure, because it was practical.
I did not my wife, Maria Isabel Williams, to hold me to a past she created.
Forgiveness released me to take a step forward without ghosts to haunt me.
It was her silence and disbelief, to the most traumatic event in my life, of which she caused, which I had to accept.
I accepted it whole heartedly, by not remaining silent, and writing about what I forgave, from someone who I will always love.
I allowed myself peace, and settled the war within.
I was no longer attached to the moment.
I became free to move at my own tempo again.
Forgiveness releases, anger holds.
I am grateful for the trust my friend had in telling me her story.
Blue Moon made me see that to forgive has practical value.
“When trust is broken you don't need to believe them."
"You don't want to keep forgiving them by placing your trust in them again."
My friend shrugged, "I forgave."
"I didn't need anything from the one I forgave after that."
Timeline
Started: 9/6/24
Completed: 2/13/25
Days: 160 days
Genre: Friendship
