The Open Letter

Dear you,
Thank you for the letter.
I'm surprised you found the time
to pick up paper, to click a pen
But I remember: tightening the screws
and hammering the nails
of your desk that summer
was no mean feat. I imagine you, finally sitting at it.
Staring across your garden, at the lame fox basking in the sun.
It was worth it.

The greatest love of all is loving yourself.
But often being half of a whole gets in the way.
Sometimes, when I walk through the market on the weekend
I see people together, wandering, smiling.
Never rushed, anxious or flummoxed.
But relaxed, happy - smiles that require no exertion.
When I'm truly alone, it feels like everyone's lives are like that.

But a wonderfully useful insight
is that into the lives of others.
Couples that fit like clockwork
Don't always click.
And sometimes I feel fortunate to have all my thoughts to myself
All my money, to myself
and my love.
The second wave of enlightenment is that
happiness can feel like a currency
in a foreign land.

So imagine my surprise, enlightened though I am
to find a beautiful, gilded invitation
to a wedding.
You did it.
In 2009, when you took Suzie to New York
I knew, then, what was going through your mind
because we clicked like clockwork.
And when she said no, my heart soared.
It wasn't meant to be, Lee.

I feel honoured to be invited,
though understandably I have no guest.
Laterally, as I gently wrap the ribbon from your invite around my ring finger
I realise that, too, is a stealthy gift.
What would Suzie say to two men, dapper though they would no doubt be
wishing you both well?
She'd put two and two
- or me and you -
together,
on her happiest day.

Like a dirty talisman
I've carried the invite,
that thick, decorative invite,
with me everywhere I go.
It sits awkwardly in my pocket on the bus
and I even held onto it
during a meeting about sustainability.

Thank you,
from the bottom of my heart
for inviting me to your wedding.
The idea that you're comfortable
enough to see me again
after all this time
makes me feel validated, and accepted.
Maybe I'll finally introduce myself to Suzie.
Maybe we'll get on, like a house on fire.
She looks utterly charming,
and beautiful too.

Unfortunately,
I will have to decline your invitation.

It took some time
to figure out why.
Time spent nursing blistering cups of coffee
in the sun.
And carrying your invitation
to make me understand.

In November, your life will change once more.
And you will ask your wife to dance.
Steadily, as you move across the floor
She will spin, and you will steer.
Your family will join you, the floor will fill with friends
And as you hold your wife, you will see the special people in your life.
In my head, there's perhaps a gap in the crowd.
Or maybe when you see Sophie and James, you'll feel my absence
but you need to feel it.
Not seeing me there will give you that same sense of understanding I felt
carrying your invitation everywhere.
I can't watch you get married.
Because it will cement, once and for all
my worst fear.
That you'll never, ever
come back to me.