Chapter Two: Prophesy Fulfilled

You know how it is when a love relationship is new and the two sit and dream of a future together. They map out what it is they aspire to share, the places they will go, things they will do, children they will raise. I had a second chance when I was 35 and met my ex. We had big dreams – he had big dreams, and his dreams became my dreams -- I dared not dream my own.

We were going to go to the Deep South and open hearts, expand minds, spread the love of racial harmonics across Mississippi. We would teach the people who, he assured me, were truly good-hearted well-meaning but brainwashed. We would show them their brown-skinned brothers were the same as they. I had long fought this battle in West Virginia; I jumped on the bandwagon wholeheartedly, happily, joyfully in fact.

One night I had a vision. Crystal clear. A middle-aged heavy set bearded white man in work clothes raised a rifle to his shoulder and aimed it at my ex (who at the time was a handsome, dark-haired thirty-year-old). The man was livid, shaking with anger. He spat hateful words as he lifted the weapon and prepared to fire. I stepped forward between my ex and the angry man just as the gun discharged. There was no tender death scene, no sobbing lover cradling me in his arms, no deathbed confession of eternal devotion. I simply took a bullet for him, and I died.

I felt this premonition on a gut level. I knew without a doubt this was prophesy. 

We never moved to Mississippi. We did our share of community service. I did take a bullet for him, just not a literal piece of metal to the heart. Still, I died that he might live. I stepped between the angry man and the good man, and let the angry man take his wrath out on me to preserve the good man’s life. Although I meant well, it didn’t accomplish what I’d hoped it would. The good man lost me; the angry man simply reloaded and fired again; and I died to both myself and the good man I sought to save.

They say three works the charm. I am resurrected. I have my own dreams now. Although I still have a massive capacity to give and receive love, I’ve taken my last bullet. Of course, there’s more to this story than what is here – there always is. 

Stay tuned for the next exciting chapter, and perhaps the backstory as well. ~~GH

Happy Easter. 
~~in loving memory of David Oso, who would be 13 now, and is, in my heart.