John X, Y and Z

I was raised in a family of three.  I find comfort in sets of three.  Three children,  three grandchildren.

Three loves.

All named John or some derivative thereof.  John X, John Y and John Z.  First, Middle and Last.

They have spanned every generation of my life from my teens until now.  In looking back, I'm not sure I have a time from 16 on where I wasn't in love with a John.

John X and I probably share the most commonalities.  Of course, he's on a very different intellctual plane than I am.  It matters to him; drives him.  He analizes and formulates.  Me, but super sized.

We always had things to talk about and he was very giving in his super intelligent ways.  He's why I find music stirring and romantic.  To this day, if a guy sits beside me and plays me a song, on the radio, over the phone, especially in person... and it's meant "for" me... only me... I'd stop heaven for a while, grasp his hand, and walk into the sunset.

Days and nights on the phone while John X tuned and crafted song after song.  There's a song to me somewhere.  I've lost track after all these years.  But I think I'd recognize the tune.

We floated awkwardly in youthful "love".  I know I fell in love, but there was always something missing.  We were always off key or out of sync.  I loved him.  He liked me.  He felt more.  I felt less.   A pattern that repeats through the fabric of my life.  But he was a good first love.  He taught me to share pieces of myself.

Large pieces.  Pieces that can never be returned.

Smaller fragments also.  He has my admiration, friendship, trust.  I taught him to swing on a swingset and let life go and enjoy.  He promised that if I looked up and love had passed me by without children, he'd be my "surrogate" father.  He held me when I cried over and read all of my poetry written for...

John Y.