I Am Not A Dragon
on grieving who we used to be
Spring is allegedly a time for spring cleaning, which is how I ended up finding two pieces of old writing that made my chest hurt.
The first was an excerpt from the vows C wrote and spoke on our wedding day. The second was an excerpt of an email from an old friend that I no longer speak to, and haven’t spoken to in many years.
This is what C said:
”Today I feel like old Farmer Giles, who tamed a dragon and became a king. On the day you first spoke to me, you were splendid and immensely terrifying, while I was, at best, a tatterdemalion knight-errant with his heart sewn upon his sleeve, hardly able to lift his eyes to yours. And while you are more familiar to me now, yet I know your tremendous fire, your wings and claws, and I love you for them as for your softness. They continue to leave me in awe, and you are not to be underestimated, least of all by yourself.”
And this is from an email that my friend wrote, around the same time that I was marrying C in the library of an old mansion.
