Whats in a name

Joiecherie - a name built and given, a gift.

My first memories were of Texas. My world was small, provincial. That would change.

At 17 I joined the Air Force. I was one of the first female Jet Mechanics. I found myself an unwelcome addition to the Jet Shop in Torrejon Spain. I learned to stand my ground and to keep my eyes open and my head down. I journeyed throughout Spain, and made my way to Turkey, Italy and Germany.I found the people of those countries far more welcoming than my compatriots. I watched, and learned. My world view moved, expanded beyond arbitrary borders. They became just lines on a map. People flowed from the pages of National Geographic into vibrant realities. I reveled in learning who these people were. I integrated their ways and beliefs into myself.

My journey took an unexpected turn, into marriage and motherhood, and then divorce.

I found myself in Denver. It is a place of movement and flow. It suited me. It is a place of incredible dichotomies, of repression and irrepressible spirit. And, I learned a new label for myself. Liberal. I wear it as i wear most labels,,,, like an itchy shirt. For the next several years I hid, online, safe, able to make contact, and still remain home, protected.

As many folks before and after me, i crossed paths online with a person. a man. He fascinated me, drew my curiosity. He courted me in his southern way, charming, reserved, respectful. He was out of time, this man. We spoke, by letter, by email, and finally by telephone. His voice: deep, rich, Cajun, thrilled me.

He eased the pain from my heart, and he said I lightened his days. He declared me his Joie, and I was indeed joyful,, around him. We fell into each other, safely together though apart in this brave new electronic world of ours. we talked. We shared all our thoughts, the ways we agreed, thought alike. Those conversations were like music; intricately entwined compositions. Eventually though, the melodies, became harmonies, and at some point the harmonies went off-key, and became dissonance.

The talking that drew us together, in the end, worked against us. We never met. We both had children and jobs that bound us to our respective locales. Neither of us was willing to disrupt our children's lives by moving them. And so we remained. Him in Houma, and me, in Denver. The phone, our lifeline, was our sole connection. Eventually it grew tortuous. We knew in time we would grow resentful, each of the others decision not to make the grand gesture, and so we made a choice. To stop, while love still remained

Our time together wound down, but, the last we spoke, he gifted me with my name. He said I had always been his Joie, and I would ever remain his Cherie. All these years later, I still am.