I was telling Chris an anecdote about faith and what that means to me. Wanna hear? Outstanding. It's late so I'll try to be concise.
I read or heard or made it up, but there was something in my head about love sometime requiring that you believe things you don't wanna. Some day somebody's gonna tell you something fantastic and unbelievable or hard and incomprehensible or it's just gonna sound like something you wanna hear too much to ever trust. Our job is to believe it anyway.
Michelle called me from Chicago one morning, told me she saw pink pigeons with purple feet. I thought she was kidding, she's not always given and I don't always get her. I laughed. She told me again. I asked her questions to fish out the metaphor. She repeated and I started thinking about allegory and similes. She stayed her course and I made up some lovely excuses for her lapse in observation and reason. She seemed earnest, though, and insistent as a leaky hose so I gave. I chose to believe her like I always said I should. I had to consciously make up my mind to take this ridiculous story as gospel.
Turns out she had a fever and was hallucinating that morning. I don't even know that she remembers talking to me, but I know how I feel for trusting her. Turns out she was telling her truth.
It really doesn't matter if there's a right and wrong or a good and an evil. It's not important who has the better story or the better aim when retelling it. It doesn't matter if you fucked up or got fucked, I stay on your side because that's something I ask myself to do. I ask me to follow the feelings and back up the relationship-even when you're impossible to back. Even when I'm mean and wrong. Even when you're right. Love's a choice we make every day. Just follow the love.
If you find this, I love you Michelle. I miss you every day. I wish you were here and I'll always believe you.