4.19 Release
LOVE LETTERS TO LEO. A memoir about following my heart to discover the magic of the Universe.
LOVE LETTERS TO LEO
A memoir about following the heart to find oneself
By Lo Garcia
To “Leo”,
There will never be another Leo to my Lo.You always have me.
___
To Paz,
Thank you for pushing me. I started this book for me but finished it because of you. I love you.
___
To The Universe,
Your power and magic are undeniable.
I am oh so grateful to have the ability to see it, the capacity to grab on to it and the desire to dance to your music.
I invite you to believe. Believe in love. Believe in infinite possibility, beyond any imagination. Believe in the magic, the wonder and the power of the Universe.
Afterall, it is the Universe that loves a good love story the most. To experience a love like this: so matter-of-factly intentional, “meant to be” if I dare and if you allow. Quite literally written in the stars. A gift.
—
To be gifted with such a love. It is both glorious and excruciating. Knowing it will never leave me but it may never be any closer to me than the stars. Holding space for something that I will never hold. Following my heart to a destination unknown.
This is why I write.
CHAPTER 1: THE INTRODUCTION
Some people come into your life like a story and leave like a dream.
~Sahiha
JUNE 2022
It’s the person you never saw coming that will change your life
~unknown
June 21, 2022 | Soho, NYC
THE NIGHT WE MET
It was a rainy Tuesday evening in Manhattan. I was in my hotel room after a day in the office. What I was hoping would be a festive night involving a romantic prospect turned into the start of a pity party when it was obvious he was showing zero interest.
To be honest, we didn’t have a date planned. Last week we were chatting over Webex at work and I let him know I’d be in town this week. I loosely threw out the idea of meeting up for a drink. So today when I arrived in the office, I was looking for him. Around 2pm I still hadn’t seen him, which likely meant he wasn’t in the office. Not only do I sit on the same floor as him when I am in town, I sit within viewing distance of his desk. So, I sent him a text: “Hey, I’m in town. Wondering if you want to meet up for that drink tonight?”. It was around 6pm when I got to my hotel and he still hadn’t responded.
I flopped down on the bed, tears flowing. And then, in a blink, I grabbed my phone and searched for a dinner reservation. If no one wanted to take me out I’d take myself out to a nice dinner. I booked a reservation for one, freshened myself up and grabbed my book and a pen (to scribble in the margins) before heading out of my hotel room. I ordered an Uber and got downstairs with enough time to smoke a cigarette before the driver arrived. Then off I went, staring out of the window while we drove, taking pictures of the rainy NYC streets on the way to Blue Ribbon Brasserie.
Upon entering the restaurant it was a quintessential NYC experience from the start. I was shown to a teeny tiny table and had to squeeze between either of two already occupied tables. To my right, a man and woman sitting at an uneventful “one must eat” type of dinner. To my left, two men. One older than the other. Possibly Father/Son or coworkers.
My seat? An open spot on a long skinny bench that ran the length of the wall on one side of the restaurant. I wiggled my bum between the five, maybe six inches there was between my table and the couple’s. I set my book on the table and as I relaxed into my seat, I placed my order for a Grey Goose on the rocks. No fruit, no mixer, just vodka on ice, please.
I was looking over the menu when the maitre‘d came back over to say “Hello” and welcome me (that was nice). He went on, “You’re lucky to have gotten a table for one. We usually don't accept reservations for one but since we have a large party we could accommodate you.”
“My lucky day, I guess.” soft and gentle in response. Acknowledging the positive but wishing I didn’t have to be grateful to be rolling solo.
A waiter approaches with my cocktail. As he places it on the table in front of me, the maitre d excuses himself and turns to tend to another table.
I raise my drink to the waiter as he moves along and take a sip as I open my book. You know that first sip of an evening's first cocktail? When it hits just right and your shoulders relax, you exhale and the day begins to unwind? Chef's kiss.
In no time, I am zeroed in on my book, paying no attention to anyone around me. That is until I see out of the corner of my eye, a drink from the table to my right was mid fall and heading towards my sneakers. Not only was I starting to feel cozy from my own drink, my reflexes were as well. Instead of trying to catch it, I watch it fall to the floor. My shoes somehow avoided a complete washout but didn’t totally escape the storm. Immediately the owner of the downed drink was apologizing. It was the younger of the two men. He felt really bad and embarrassed and didn’t quite know what to do. The older of the two stepped in, experienced with age on his side, apologizing as well and offered to buy me dessert.
As I reached down with my napkin to start blotting up the booze I responded.
“Awe, thank you. That is totally unnecessary but…I accept!” I would choose to eat dessert over any meal so yes, yes I accept. I take a quick look at the dessert menu. “I’ll have the creme brulee, please. Thank you.”
A waiter came over shortly after the spill. After the fellows ordered my creme brulee, I put in my order for my meal: shrimp roulade and french onion soup. Tonight I will be having dinner before dessert.
I wiggled my nose right back to my book. When I read something that struck me for whatever reason, I made note. Sometimes just an underline, other times I’d end up filling up the margins with my own thoughts. It was incredibly therapeutic for me.
The book I was reading was The Strength in Our Scars by Bianca Sparacino. The first line I made note of that evening was “...we all just want connection. We all just want to know that we aren’t going to be alone.” And it is so true. We don’t want to be alone, live alone, die alone. And the fear of doing all of that alone is what creates the fever to rush attachment. Just to be attached. But I don’t want to just be attached.
When I read this, I wasn’t thinking about the person I thought I'd be meeting that night. He’s nothing to concern myself with any longer. My focus was on the person who did show up. My focus was on me. Ever since my divorce, I have embraced solitude. I guess I haven't really had a choice, right? We have 50/50 custody so I have a lot of total undisturbed alone time. Even when my kids are with me, I may have company, energy and noise in the house but still, I no longer have a companion walking through the trenches of life with me. I could be down and out and complain that I have to do all of life myself. I could be bitter that I have to find things to fill up my time, my mind, my space. I could. But I can’t. I won’t. Instead, I take myself out to fancy french dinners. Make lemonade out of lemons, they say. That’s what I do best.
My first course came out and I continued to read as I ate and sipped my cocktail. “Fall in love with someone who will take care of your mind, someone who will take care of your heart.” Emilio, my ex, didn’t take care of my heart. He wanted to but he always chose to take care of something else instead.
My favorite excerpt of the evening, at the bottom of page 61, “I hope you find someone who shows you just how deeply you can feel, just how deeply you can love. I hope you find something real, because nothing is more beautiful than loving someone who loves you back.”
I followed that excerpt and added my own little note at the top of the page: “He will enter. When it is right.”
I wrote it because I believe it. I believe in divine timing. Even though I may get momentarily bent over something that doesn’t go as I anticipated or wanted (Ehem, Mr. No Response), I do always turn towards the bigger hand of influence. The universe. Because, when you don’t know, you must believe. You have to trust.
In that moment I was feeling a deepened confidence, a trust in sitting back and allowing this life to unfold as it will. I would meet someone, the right someone, when the time was right. I felt clear and comforted. It didn’t have to be today. I was okay with that. More than okay. It felt right. This time to myself was on purpose.
And then the magic started.
It was as I was underlining the sentence “I hope you find the kind of moments that take your breath away.” when my pen jumped from a thud on the bench. Someone just sat down next to me. Wait, what happened to the couple who was sitting there? I was so engrossed in my reading/writing, I didn’t even notice they had left. When did they leave? Actually, I don't care. There is a man sitting next to me now.
His hoodie was pulled up over his head blocking me from being able to see his face without being too obvious. The gender giveaway, the only part of his body I could see - his hands: soft, smooth, well-manicured, dark, man hands. Instantly, I imagined them touching me while simultaneously assessing the situation and wondering where his dining companion was. Hasn't arrived yet? In the bathroom? Where is she? He? I focus back on my book.
I kept my composure but inside my head was swirling with excitement. How do I make contact? Vibes. Vibes and a little peacock show. As I read, with each turn of a page I shifted my legs back and forth, I’d change my hand or arm position. Dangle my feet a little in his direction. Creating movement trying to catch his eye. It’s been a few minutes and no signs of anyone joining you. And also no sign of him tuning into my show. Hey, I’m relatively new at this flirting over 40 thing. I may not be doing it right.
A waiter approaches his table and the guy starts ordering. The order goes on for a length of time that seemed unlikely only one person would be eating. Who is planning on eating all of this food? There has to be someone else coming. Or, he has a very hearty appetite. Only time will tell.
I continue reading and shortly thereafter, I make a note: “Right now, I can feel something shifting in me. An energy is changing in me. I love it.” I felt lifted. A little sparkly. I don’t know how else to say it but I felt different.
His soup is the first thing to come out and the first opportunity I saw to make contact so I jumped “Ohhh, that smells so good!” I leaned towards him a bit. “What is it?”
He was mid-spoonful (my perfect timing) and finished his sip before answering, “Fish soup.”
“Smells delish. Enjoy.” I say.
I take a sip of my Grey Goose and go back to my book. Not too long after he leans back towards me and asks “What book are you reading?”
The reply in my head: Ah, there you are cutie. The reply I said aloud, “The Strength in Our Scars”, I say. “It's a book with a lot of little stories and thoughts that make me think and scribble down little stories and thoughts of my own.”
I don’t even know how someone is supposed to respond to that. I mean what does one say? Sheesh. But, he liked it. He liked that I was sitting there by myself, with a book. I could tell.
And from there we started chatting.
“Where are you from?” He asked
“Pittsburgh.”
“Sheesh” he replies (see, perfect response).
“I know…but I’m frrrrrom Baltimore.”
I’m proud to be from Baltimore. I love that city. Plus, it gives me more street cred than Pittsburgh. I do not love living in Pittsburgh. A bit too vanilla for me. It’s fine but it doesn’t carry the energy of Baltimore. Even further from that of NYC’s. I will be moving to NYC at some point in my life. I belong there.
But back to Baltimore, after I bring it up, we pretty much jump right to The Wire. That’s typically how any convo goes when I meet someone and I tell them where I’m from. At least the conversations I know are worth continuing.
He hadn’t finished the series yet. I started rambling on about how much I love Wallace and how sad that he dies in season 2 (sorry, spoiler alert). I remember going on and on and on about Wallace and he sat there, listening to me. Later when I was rewatching the show I was reminded that Wallace dies in season 1. There is a little part of me that thinks you knew that when I was rambling but chose not to say anything. Am I right?
He reaches his phone towards me “What's your Insta?” and my immediate thought was, fuck really? I don’t want you knowing I have kids yet. For starters, having kids means you can do the math and guess my age range. And honestly, I don’t feel my age so I’d prefer not talk about that. The main reason though, is that my kids don’t belong in my dating life. If I date anyone I am dating for me. Not to find a father for my kids.
But, okaaay, I thought as I took his phone in my hand and pulled up my insta handle and clicked follow for him. Then I picked up my phone, opened Instagram, accepted his friend request and requested to follow him.
And there we were. Connected. At that moment, we were oblivious to the significance of this exchange.
Shortly after, I went to the bathroom. There was a second that I was going to leave my purse and book at the table, under his watchful eye. But then I remembered I didn’t know him so I brought everything with me.
In the bathroom, before I headed back to the table, I looked in the mirror. I gave myself a once over, confirming I was looking fine. Not just fine but sexy fine (wink wink). I felt good. As I applied a dab of gloss to my lips, I thought there’s a potential I could bring this guy back to my hotel tonight. No. No way. But mayyyybe. Let’s go find out.
As I returned and slithered in between our tables to sit back down, I asked
“So, how far did you get on my insta?”
“Oh I didn’t look at it. I only have like 5% battery”.
“Ah ok.” I say, slightly embarrassed I was so presumptuous but also relieved he didn’t yet know I had kids and could attempt to figure out my age. Only a matter of time until he gets his hands on a charger and discovers my deep dark secrets.
“I’m Lo, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Leo.”
My french onion soup arrived at the same time as Leo's chicken. As I let the steam out of my soup I leaned closer to him and asked how the chicken was. (It was really starting to feel like a date.). He said it wasn’t as good as the other location, still good just not the same.
I started talking about something that required me to mention that my birthday was the week prior and he impressed me when he said on the sly “Gemini”. Like in the dopest, chillest, most confident, sexy way. One word told me so much about him. You don’t use many words, do you? Each one seems to be intentionally selected.
His birthday came up in conversation soon after and I had to ask what his sign was. “Leo” he says. Thankfully, seemingly without any judgment that I didn’t know this information.
“Ohhh…” I say as I lean forwards and towards him, so close that my chin ever so slightly brushes his shoulder, “...we’re good together, Gemini and Leo.”
He looked at me with his strong eyes as I leaned back in my seat and replied confidently, “Facts”. Ooooo, you real cute.
At some point I remember saying, “I just want to say, I love this night.” (Blushing, we were both blushing). He replied in agreement.
“What made you come here by yourself tonight?” I was so curious about the decisions he made that led to his butt sitting next to my butt.
He was coming home from work, hungry and wanted Blue Ribbon Chicken. He usually goes to a different location but he was close to this one so he stopped here. Ping! (Ping - noun. A synchronicity created by the universe as a signal)
“Well, it has been a pleasure. And, please, don't let me keep you here. Feel free to leave if you need/want to”
“Nah, I’m good.”
Good I thought and ordered another drink.
We chatted a while longer. My crème brûlée came out. I filled him in on the story of the spilled drink and offered him a bit of my dessert (What was I doing? Oh my god stop! I am not on a date! He is not my date. I had to remind myself I didn’t know this guy).
As I finished my last drink, I decided that I should be the first one to ask for my check. Wanting to avoid any awkwardness, I mean when/how does one ask for a check during a night like this? I took the initiative and summoned the waiter. Leo follows my lead so naturally, as if planned, and asks for his check as well.
The next big decision was when do I get up? I decided the perfect time was when he got up to go to the bathroom. But I decided this while he was already in the bathroom. Creating a little mystery leaving him to see an empty table when he returned.
I tucked my receipt into my wallet, gathered my things before I stood up and walked slowly towards the door. I stepped out and not a minute after he stepped out behind me. Did I shake your hand? I have an embarrassingly horrible feeling that I shook your hand when I said goodbye. Did I? Please say you don’t remember. But tell me if you do.
And that was it. We got in our separate cabs and went our separate ways. I remember feeling this incredible feeling of joy and a full heart. Gratitude. I was so grateful for how the evening evolved and grateful to have met such a beautiful human being at that magic little moment in my life when I was showing myself I didn’t need a companion to go to dinner with.
He was a gift. The first in the series of my life where I was just starting to become something more than what I knew of myself. I didn’t know it then but a transformation was beginning to unfold. All I was aware of was my ability to breathe in the moment and be truly thankful for such a lovely night. I didn’t have any thoughts or questions about if I would see him again. I just loved that I met him.
***
That night actually did get a little sweeter even still. When I got back to my hotel I sent him a dm saying again how beautiful of a night it was and that I was so glad our paths crossed. I am so cheesy, oh my god.
He responded shortly after. “Your kids are beautiful. I just got home. Yeah it was a cool night.”
“Your kids are beautiful.” That is the first sentence he wrote to me. Damn boy. Ping! Ping! Ping!