Among 3000 women, mostly lesbians, at the West Coast Womenʼs Music & Comedy Festival at Yosemite in 1986, I noticed her when I first arrived. “Thereʼs Corrie, Sallyʼs ex-lover! Whatʼs she doing here?” I hoped she was miserable. I thought she was attractive. I saw her several more times during the four days of the festival. It had been six years since Sally and I had broken up and I was finally feeling that I was open to another love.
On the last afternoon, as I was sitting on a bridge taking a toke and writing in my journal, she appeared on the bank overlooking the river and sat down. I knew I had to say something. “Hi Corrie, Iʼm Wendy. Remember me?” to which she replied, “You look different (meaning better, she later confided). She finally came to sit down right next to me. As we talked, it seemed that we were all alone–the energy between us was palpable. We walked up the hill to get in line for dinner, promising to meet later at the evening concert, our bodies gently brushing against each other, as if magnets were attached to our limbs.
That night, I scanned the crowds with my flashlight, searching for her, but she was nowhere to be found. Suddenly I thought I smelled popcorn (which I love) and walked towards the food lines to find her munching on a Tempeh burger. “Iʼve been looking for you!” “Iʼve been looking for you, too!”
We spent the rest of the last night visiting various venues: an outdoor film, a Jewish womenʼs circle and then, at long last, my tent. I assured her “we donʼt have to do anything.” We did. We entered into two years of a long distance relationship, visiting each other one weekend a month (between Oakland and Portland).
We moved in with each other and are still together, twenty-five years later. Five years ago we were married on the magical island we live on in Canada. We celebrate that first night in my tent as our anniversary, August 31st. (2008)
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