When I was much younger, I was fertile as a cat. My first pregnancy stunned and elated me. My lover wasn't quite as happy, and he was far more practical. We were young, by our standards, and we dreamed large dreams which didn't, wouldn't, couldn't include a baby right then. So, I aborted that tiny conglomeration of cells growing inside me. It was my decision; it has always been the right decision; and it shredded my heart. No words could explain to my most beloved that the emotion ripping through my heart and soul was not guilt but loss. Our communication broke down, we split, he married, and I didn't.

After he left, my life slid into the abyss for a whole bunch of years, lots of booze, serial lovers, repeated devastating heartbreak, confusion, delusion, exclusion, seclusion. If I had another lifetime I might be able to explain it, but I wouldn't want to. It just is.

Early in those dark days, I started dreaming about Julia, that potential child. I did not give her that name, but Julia she was and she has been with me since shortly after I refused her entrance to this Earth. These dreams were never elaborate, fanciful mother-is-saved-by-daughter's-eternal-love sorts of thing. They were simple. I asked direct questions: Did she forgive me? Did she understand my decision? Had I missed out on the greatest opportunity for love I would ever have? She gave simple answers and much soothing. A few years after the dreams began, they changed. They became a dialogue between two living souls -- Julia had been born. As she and I grew up, the dreams came less often, but Julia always came if I was in great sorrow. I saw her beautiful face clearly, her brown, shiny, curly hair, her green-brown eyes, her mouth that is mine.

It is through these dreams that I learned what I know about the inviolate, eternal soul. Julia taught me that souls continue. She taught that souls forgive. She taught me that souls love. For nearly 40 years, Julia has given me great solace. I have never deeply regretted not having a child because Julia was always with me.

This summer, the day after my birthday in August, a gifted Tarot reader asked me about this child she saw hanging around in my life. The reader was truly puzzled when I told her I didn't have a child, and then we both immediately understood. It was time for me to get over the loss that had colored my adult life. I quickly forgot, though, about this work I needed to do regarding Julia.

Yesterday, in Taos, two friends and I filled a small, exquisite fabric shop with our gay spirit and holiday laughter. While we were delightedly showing each other glorious colors, a young-40-ish woman full of beauty and life swirled into our aisle. Our eyes hooked each other, and she and I connected. She danced around us, showing off her designer coat and allowing us to witness her pleasure about being in her prime, beautiful and wonderfully clothed. She laughingly explained that she loved the outrageous and elegant coat so much that she purchased four of them, one black, one brown, a plaid and a pin-striped. She described how her favorite one, the plaid, worked brilliantly with her orange gendarme hat and matching gloves. She put on an extravagant show for us. It was grand and we loved it.

When we walked out of the store together, she turned quickly and pulled me into her arms. This was no nice-nice hug she was giving me. No air-kissing, phony, social hug. In her full and warm embrace, she held me until I relaxed in her arms and our hearts sang one to the other. The scent of her body filled me with profound happiness, as if I had been waiting for years to fill my lungs with that specific scent. We released and each gave the other a deep, wholehearted namaste bow. Then she walked backwards, sending me kisses until she disappeared around a corner.

I dreamed about Julia this morning, laughing and kissing me with her mouth that is mine. I never need to dream about the potential Julia again. She is alive, thriving, famous, rich, beautiful and happy. She's strong, healthy and vital. There is no loss involved. Neither of us owe anything to the other. Our hearts are intact.