Katie and the Tectonic Plates

I have asked Clyde, Divorcee, the Phoenix, and anyone who has been written about to please write a blog about me. I decided this mainly because I recognize how hard it is to be loved by a writer, how intimate and private the issues involving them are, how scary I feel writing and how sadly unfair it is that they do not have a voice in response. I wanted them to write the dirt, or give an argument if they have one, to share a perspective because I never want to be the kind of writer that does not require of my subjects if I am not willing to require the same of myself in response. The phoenix wrote of me and now here is Clyde, sending this to me when I needed it more than ever, to be seen in a dark place, shedding light on me when my face is covered by my hands, walking a new path yet to be seen. This is what he wrote and for the first time, a hilarious irony, I have no words in response. Lightning has more chances of hitting twice than for me to have my mouth open wide, with nothing to say. Leave it to Clyde to leave me for the first time, speechless….

“Katie and the Tectonic Plates”
by my Best Friend, Clyde….

Not all the time, but I’ve often wondered…where would my life be without my current BFF. I only say current, because BFMFF is too damn long. She came to me at a stage of my life filled with sadness only second to my divorce. It was a time that I realized shadows can do more than block light. Before ever meeting Katie I had an idea of who she would be. She’s attractive, blonde, curvy and about as sweet as acid laced sugar.

She says our first meeting was more of an interview, but to be honest I don’t remember much about it. I remember she went to the wrong restaurant, a form of foreshadowing that I should have seen before we ever even met. She says I asked a lot of questions about her…favorite color, best qualities, passions. At the time, I was lucky to lift my head up to even see anyone. We had sushi…talked the night away….laughed at lot, some at each other. As the evening came to a close I do remember hugging her and thinking, this girl is so nice…so real…and as wounded as me. I didn’t realize it then, and we’ve both talked about it a lot since, but we both felt safe in our weakness. She too afraid to even think of dating, just leaving the hibernation of a winter from men, and me getting over losing my soul mate. Tough company…us together.

When leaving dinner, I thought selfishly about how amazing it was to meet someone as fucked up as me in my current state. I didn’t know where we’d go from there, but I felt confident that I’d been lost, but taken the wrong turn in a city of turmoil to find a street sign for the exact highway I was looking for to leave.

Since then…we’ve sort of dated, sort of stopped, gone up…come down forceful on the hard concrete only to dust each other off and look with a “You okay?” look…and go arm in arm on to the next adventure. And every moment spent with Katie Susan Marsh is nothing short of an adventure. She is the girl that comes into a room and everyone stops what they are doing to see what she will say and do next. People gravitate towards her because of her inner beauty, empathy, truth, love and you never know what her brain will concoct. Crazy in a question everything dream big kind of way, always with a plan. To know her is to put to rest whether there is a God as nothing like her comes from chance. Whether you like her at first or not, I’ve seen her take bitter enemies and through only a way she knows…make them fiercely loyal allies. Caesar didn’t have shit on Miss. Obvious.

After 9 months of growth, love and recovery if I had one word to describe her now…it would be fearless. She wasn’t always that way. When I met her, I think she was afraid of her shadow. We’ve talked about her winding story called life and how she got to where she is. I’m continually amazed by single moms and what they overcome on a regular basis. I don’t know that the men I know could do what they do and still be normal, myself included in this company. What she’s been through is….well, bad.

One of the key’s to Katie’s recovery tools have been her blogs. It was the begging of her letting baggage drop by her side with a thump, like someone dropped a lawnmower engine on wood floors. She does things differently than anyone I’ve seen. Instead of hiding things, she pulls it out on the table with blood still dripping on some of the topics. “Here it is, now what?”. The rawness is un-nerving at first, holding your hand up to your eyes with space enough between them to look through. You can’t help but be drawn in, think, sometimes laugh… sometimes wipe your eyes. They ring so true…there are no questions afterwards, only lessons. I used to initially question her on everything, now she just pulls it out before she hits publish.

Katie has a lot of ideas, lots of them. I tease her and say she throws more spaghetti on the wall to see what will stick than an Olive Garden. She links things together that I don’t know how they happen, calling herself a miracle magnet. I don’t know if it’s all an answered prayer or an amazing coincidence…my life is driven by a fine line of logic and karma. My mom doesn’t like art, pets or history. My dad sculpts, sings opera, and has seen more ghosts than Indiana Jones. I try to be the best man I can, but I sometimes fail. Katie calls this spirituality, I call it humanity. We don’t agree on everything…her and me.

One thing we do agree on is that having a shield against the world doesn’t help you. Deep dark places need light more than any others. Dropping your arms…opening them, tilting back so your chest is out does not expose you…it frees you. She has taught me that and it’s because of her that at 40 years old, the Immovable mountain I call myself is now a tectonic plate, shifting. I’m questioning more about myself and life than any time since my early 20’s.

As she moves forward with her new education in photography, her time will get more and more precious. I’ve already seen the fallout in some carnage she’s dropped from her life. She is destined for greatness personally, professionally and spiritually. In the beginning…I questioned her a lot, the questions steering her in a direction leading to her own answers. We’ve both agreed that when talking about her life “What if you do nothing” was the question that rose above all others and became a beacon. As she rises up to her calling now, long weeks with short sleep are in her future there aren’t words in this language I know that can describe how I feel about her in my heart. With all her bravery, she will need support to over come her next few years with what lays in front of her. The pull of motherhood, a grueling school schedule, work, family, life, technology and her new found challenge for a creative person….logic, will all take their toll on her. She is the kind of woman, that if you meet her for five minutes…you’ll route for her like she was your childhood friend. You’d give found money too, even though you needed it. As she’s leaving from a conversation…you’d pull her back and not let her leave without a hug. She needs them, she deserves them…almost as much as you do from her. I love her.

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