The little red ball beats. It controls the actions my body. It controls the actions of my soul. What is it about the little red ball that makes meaning for some, and nothing for others. I try to notice the moods of its struggle. I try to assuage its doom. I try to celebrate its successes, and its search throughout the room. This little red ball controls my life. If it’s sad, I am sad. If it’s jubilant, I too, am jubilant.

Some say the little red ball is blue. You may have heard it said. You may have heard it sung. But the little red ball is only blue when there is no fire left in its walls.

I am particular about what makes my little red ball beat faster. There isn’t room for many to enter. Once in a while though I find intrigue and wonder breaking its silence. Once in a while, it skips.

When I chase other red balls, there isn’t any response, and it doesn’t want to play – we shrink.

Some have big bouncy balls, that bring delight to those in its path. They frolic and dance with the other balls without fear of the path. These balls are quite amazing, with joyful boing, boing, a giggle, a laugh, and it’s all fun and games til they’re gone.

The echos of their boisterous berth stirring a longing in the less generous tumbler.

The little red ball gets sad, as they pitter and patter away, with diminishing returns the order of the day.

I protect my little red ball very carefully. I keep it tucked away. Far from sight from the most of the people, it beats.

Today it is joyful alone, as tomorrow is more of the same. I watch over the deepness of wondering where my big bouncy companion has gone.

Loneliness is a friend. When your companion is only yourself, you can look to loneliness to keep you happy. I am mostly happy. Mostly content. But the day after day chasm can take a toll on my joy. I made my choice. I was once a shining star (and a stabbing pain) in someone else’s life.

We are given things in life that inevitably are taken for granted. It’s natural. It’s human constitution.

Blinded by what I didn’t have, what I was missing, and what it should have and be. I couldn’t see the things that were of value. I didn’t see you anymore – and I think you didn’t see me.

We both made mistakes. We both felt cheated.

And maybe we were.

We were not well suited as lovers, but we were supremely suited as friends. You were my best friend, and my faithful companion. We never had a chance.

A man will leave his home and cleave to his wife, is what the Bible says. I think that is necessary, as cleaving is the bond that keeps the two together. We never cleaved.

I remember the day I realized that we couldn’t go on the way we were. We were driving home from Sarasota (or was it a Rays game). We had just spent a great day together. We spent many great days together – the consummate companions. Well, we had just spent a great day together and Aretha Franklin came on the radio singing “Neither one of us wants to be the first say Goodbye.” I was saturated with the words she was saying. I was listening to my life, our life, being sung by someone who had apparently been living the same lie that we were. My tears filled the wells of my brown tortoiseshell sunglasses. I didn’t say a word the rest of the way home.

I couldn’t help thinking about how we had never made a life together. We had moved across several states, and settled down without our families. We bought several houses. We moved through many job situations. We went to concerts, and movies, and far more days at DisneyWorld that are countable, and yet, we didn’t really know each other. And worse, we didn’t respect each other.

Yes, we cared about each other. Yes, we would have done anything for the other. Even after our divorce, we lived together for nearly a year and a half. Who does that?? We did.

I saw something on Facebook today that said, “If you can still be friends with your ex, you either didn’t love them or you are still in love with them.” I wonder which is true.

I still love you. You as my friend. I still think about you. Actually, I dreamed about you last night. It was a dream where we were still friends, but we couldn’t stay together.

I would still be your friend if your new wife hadn’t put the kibosh on our friendship. But she may just be representative of the Facebook sentiment.

I continue to long for the kind of love in my dreams. Someone who will be my partner in all things. Not a sprout that sticks to a reed, but two strong reeds that are surrounded by other strong reeds. I’m looking for someone who can talk to me for hours, and who listens to my stories too – while we make new ones. I have dreams, and in them I see you, whoever you are. We are going to have a wonderful 40 years, if what my heart says is true.

But right now, God doesn’t see fit to send the one who will fill my life with the presence it is missing. I will wait. Maybe the you in my dreams for the next 40 years is you my sweet savior. And that’s ok too.

I no longer mourn what is gone because I know in my heart that separating was the right thing for us. I believe you have found someone better for you. Someone who makes you stronger, and not weaker, as I did. And I, I have made a home and found me – the me that I was looking for.

“Farewell, my love, goodbyyyye.”

Thank you Aretha Franklin.