Midnight mourning and a new moon

"Brand New Moon" by Ohlen
wunderground.com

Tonight's sky featured a moon I rarely see -- a slender silver sliver circling a perfect sphere of black. It's the kind of moon that, when you look close enough, allows you to see its dark side, subtly yet perfectly against the backdrop of the dark sky.

My entries are usually thought out, with a (somewhat) linear purpose. Tonight, I offer up all the black against black. All the thoughts against thoughts that were praying on my mind as I entered this week. And maybe, hopefully, by the time I finish typing, I'll be able to find that same silver circle encompassing this chaos in the dark.

"Merli V. Guerra." It's a branding choice I stuck to years ago -- an opportunity to proudly put forth each piece of myself, even the innermost part. What is the V, you might ask? Victoria? Virginia? Valerie? Vivian?

Uh, nope, actually it's...Valentine?

Yes, thanks to my parents' desire to represent as many branches of my collective family tree as possible, I find myself now with three family names: The first Italian, the last Portuguese, and the middle (Valentine) French-Canadian. My great-grandmother's middle name, in fact.

So, Merli Valentine, what's it like?

For starters (and the ultimate purpose behind this week's post), I have never viewed Valentine's Day as a holiday celebrating romance. Love yes, but not romance. I remember the days when I thought "Merli Valentine's Day" was a real holiday, named solely after yours truly... Cool! The only four-year-old in my class to not only have a birthday, but my own holiday too? That's a pretty sweet reality.

In the memory vault of my mind, it seems that all Valentine's Days were spent staying home sick from school, watching Bedknobs & Broomsticks on the only-when-sick pulled out sofa. I remember those sparkling styrofoam red hearts on sticks that came with the bouquets my dad would bring home to my mom, and I remember red glitter shimmering in the air around me as I danced with these new "magic wands" while twirling mid-bounce on the squeaky sofa mattress. I'm sure this only happened once, but in my mind, this happened every year!

Bedknobs & Broomsticks
The single greatest stay-home-sick movie of my childhood.

Fast forward twenty years later to February 13, 2012. My recently-replaced dance partner has spent the past several days fighting for his life in the hospital, and while I don't know him well personally, I feel I know him well through the connectedness of dance. I hop online, log into the website, and discover he hasn't made it.

This may seem like an odd leap -- from childhood "name day" glitter fairy to professional dancer losing a peer -- but it all comes around in the end.

When a person you never thought would disappear suddenly vanishes from your life, you find yourself wanting nothing more than to be with the people you care about -- to see them, hold them, remind them that you're there. This midnight mourning led me to call out from work the next day, and instead visit my dear friend Meg. For those who follow my blog, you might remember my posting this summer, Marbles on a quiet floor, and yes, this is the same beautiful woman.

If it hadn't been for the loss of my partner the night before, I would not have spent my Valentine's Day with Meg—day which turned out to be the very last day I would spend with this incredible woman who knew every version of me: Professional dancer, aspiring collegiate, studious / fashion-chatty high schooler, overly-energetic arts & crafts kid, and that giggling girl in glitter. She knew every me. From Mimi to Mermi to Merli to Merli Valentine to Merli V. Guerra, and last Valentine's Day I enjoyed "my" holiday laughing with her and telling her where I'd bought today's set of earrings.

I kissed her goodbye, then never saw her again.

Now, a year later, I am sitting in my "grownup" apartment. The scarf I bought for Meg in India is hugging my neck. A photo of four-year-old me is smiling just a few feet away. I've just spent the evening with three beautiful women, commemorating the loss of our dance friend a year before. And I can see the moon. All of it -- the dark, the light, the black on black.

"Merli - May '91"

I had braced myself for a week of remembrance and sadness, but I find now that I am instead ready to enjoy yet another Valentine's Day filled with love, as I spend the evening rehearsing with six of my favorite Luminarium company members.

So that is what it means to add the V to my name. That is the love I embrace on this holiday, and that is the sum of a year's worth of thoughts, now visible in my mind through a thin, but strong, circle of light.

-Merli Valentine