Pucks.

The floor.

At the moment I can not recall how I ended up here. I’m definitely in a safe place and warm. My thoughts are gone; am I dreaming? Memories are flooding back in, love, fear, pain, understanding, clarity, peace. A punch. My best friend just hit me right below the eye and is now helping understand what I’m seeing. I saw the punch. I asked for it. 2 didn't want to do it again; punch another friend. But, he was going to give it a go. He set up, weight shifted, I said “I love you”. The floor

Open 

We talked about what we both learned. I was no longer afraid to take a punch, at least not many. 2 had no fear of punching me. 2 said outright “No one ever wants to hit me.” I said “I will 2." How many times have you asked? I thought to myself. Open.

Love

Do I want to hit my best friend? No. This man is awesome. He married Jessie and I. Has a hockey puck pad in his garage! Solid dude. He wants me to. Problem is, I don’t punch people. In my mind it became a crash. You know it’s going to happen, you can’t stop it from happening, you can shift or direct your path to least resistance. You crash. Love.

Committed

Weight set, target acquired, under the jaw. My fist stopped once connected, I felt weight, solid. Not that my punch was solid, but the man I was punching, felt solid. He stumbled to the couch, sat, stood up “I’m not sure I could take many more of those.” Committed

Understanding

2 and I had an interesting few days. I’m not sure why it happened, but I know it was supposed to happen. You think you know someone. I’ve known 2 for about ten years. Knew, know known, never new? It’s all now irrelevant, thanks to a simple punch. The floor became my safe place. Open to learn. Fear disappeared, replaced by love. Doors which were once locked now open. A higher understanding of each other. We became…

Friends.