I took my iPod to the pavilion today, along with those wonderful memories of you at our first meeting. I haven’t visited there much this year because the weather’s been so unsettled; until now at least. But with the smell of fresh-cut grass and blossoming trees all around, and a wispy 65 degree breeze blowing, today was a great time to spend at the pavilion. Today was, as I call it, a pavilion day.
I had the pavilion built in 2002 so there’d be a nice place to meditate and make new ideas for my writing. It has served me well in that regard, especially in late spring, summer, and early fall. I’ve composed thousands of words there, that now reside in this blog.
When the weather’s nice, I get down there several times weekly, looking for new understandings in all my boyhood and young adult memories. For me, the best place to find new writing fodder is in my past. So, I ponder my life while jamming to my iPod. I look at how that life has unfolded so far, as I go back and forth on one of the two swings that hang from the rafters there, facing each other.
Today, as I swayed on the north swing looking south, the south swing dangled motionless and empty on its silver chains across from me. Seeing it like that so much, is the only part of the pavilion that saddens me. Indeed, sometimes I ask why I bothered buying that second swing because as things have turned out so far, it’s rarely ever used. I have entertained friends there occasionally, sharing green tea and crumpets, as we talk about deep things. Sometimes, Mom and her friends use the pavilion, and the neighbor girl sometimes brings a schoolmate over. But while I’m happy for those others, I’m sad for me because they enjoy the swings more than I.
Seven years ago, I hoped I’d meet a special lady to make that second swing go while I sat on the other one, looking into her eyes and listening to her life story. I imagined many hours on hot summer days and brisk fall evenings, my dream girl there, giggling, smiling, joking, and revealing.
They say that there’s magic in sevens. I wonder. Could there be magic in the pavilion this year? I mean, it’s been standing for seven years now. So something good is due to happen there. I hope.
As I mused today with my music, I was thinking about what things would be truly magical. What occurrences would cancel all the sad years so far, where I’ve watched that empty swing and felt powerless to fill it? What would it take to make that second swing worth the money after all? I pondered.
Then, I thought of you. I know it’s crazy since we’ve only had one date. So perhaps telling you what I’m about to makes me a crazy and thoughtless man. But I’m an honest man too, and I do not wait for “the right time” to say what’s on my mind. I say it when it occurs to my heart; it’s just the way I am. So given that, I must say this to you now: [Linda], I’m really crazy about you. I knew that today, sitting in front of that empty swing and imagining you there smiling back. What a joyous vision. How much better the next seven pavilion years could be. How much better the previous seven years would have been, if you really had been there, swinging with me.
Tell me. Do you like pavilions? Do you like to swing? Do you like green tea? Do you like crumpets? Do you enjoy deep conversation?
Is your heart at all moved, by this magic in sevens? That is to say: Would you consider visiting my pavilion with me and making this magical fantasy of sevens come true?