His Name is John
John was my Abelard. He was a lover, friend, and teacher.
His language of expressing love was touch; he withholds words and saves them for last. He watches time and makes plans but gives this up when needed. He is passionate and intense but balances it with gentleness and thoughtfulness. He loves the mystery of romance, the thrill of solving puzzles, and chasing after his beloved.
He was my best friend, ally, and cheerleader. I can call him anytime for support and prayer. He is honest when he sees flaws. He counsels and corrects, listens, and respects.
He has taught my heart to be open and prepared me to meet other knights. Yes, he was often jealous but is aware that friendship with them can contribute to my growth.
He taught me to dance by following his steps, keeping the proper posture, and swaying to the music. He provoked my thoughts with intellectual words and saturated my heart with his stories.
Yes, I remember his stories. Here are some which we shared:
I was traveling the road to the unknown when I encountered a traveler who looked familiar.
“Do I know you, Mr. Familiar?” I approached the guy who was busy with his map, figuring out which direction to take like myself.
He flashed a smile. He folded his map, kept it in his pocket, and grabbed my hand to walk with him to the North. “Well, yes, My Lady. I’m your guide to where you’re going.”
I was surprised with his confidence to hold my hand yet let him do so. I walked in the same direction as he took while he kept talking about where he’s from and what he used to do for a living.
Same with me, he was traveling to the unknown, and I felt like I can keep his company. He seemed to be fun, and carefree, and light-hearted – not a burden to walk with at all.
I noticed his heavy footsteps, though, which I think can slow me down when I want to dash off. But unlike me, who carries a handbag full of personal necessities, he travels light just having his map. All other things he seemed to need were in his head – and that consists of all his experiences from previous journeys.
I never told him why he looks exactly familiar. The truth is, he looked very much like the prince.
We passed by a garden one day, and I saw a beautiful flower. I asked him to stop and appreciate it for a moment. I just loved flowers, and I can name them from acorn to zinnia!
A random question then came to mind when gazing at that precious sight: “Will you pick up the flower, John? Or leave it to grow there for others to see?”
To my surprise, he looked for clay to make a pot and put soil there. Then, he uprooted the flower and moved it to the pot. That was a good move, I thought! Now we had something to look after on the journey. That little flower gave us a break when we’re tired; watering it gave us reason to pause.
I had to dash off, scout if where we’re going in the right direction. He preferred to stay behind and set up a tent. His wings we’re still recovering, he said. He gave me a feather instead and asked me to keep it. It should remind me to pray before I even think about calling for him.
He looked cool despite what I mentioned that I may not come back. But I felt in his embrace how he would miss me. I know for a fact that I will, too.
-Note: This post was originally published in my personal blog last October 23, 2013