Sunday, January 9, 2011

Day 97: The Architect

The architect was a man unlike others you’ve met.

He stood taller than most, and moved in local circles with charm and ease. He told us stories of the old country in ways we had never heard. He laughed with heart, and we joined him. He made grown men weep with regret at the lives they could have led, if only they had not doubted themselves. The architect didn’t believe in doubt.

"Belief and Doubt" he said, "each other’s lover and nemesis."

He had a way of making us see ourselves clearly, for the first time. I’ve often thought of how your life would have changed if you and the architect had the chance to be friends. He would have had a profound effect on you, I’m certain of it.

People still speak of what he built for her.  It’s a great misfortune that it’s not there any longer; I would have taken you to see it.  I was so lucky to witness the completion. It was glorious, far too glorious to be appropriately described.

Years later, after it was torn down, someone told me miracles happened near it; but I think the architect wouldn’t want me to state that as fact. He wasn’t conscious of how it was a sanctuary for every one of our hesitant imaginings. The garden alone…well, he was much too humble to notice its force. He simply perceived it as a labor of love; and the design, an extension of his heart.

The architect built her a home.
A real home. Solid and safe.

I sense you two would have had a genuine friendship. It really is a shame. I wish we had another lifetime to start over. Another lifetime to review every missed opportunity. I would introduce you to him. I would lead you by the hand, straight to his door. You would have been pleased by the warmth of his greeting.

I think you would have been very pleased.

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