I'm smiling and I'm fumbling with the right words with which to start. I tell you not to worry about it, but here I am, doing a similar thing, at 8:50AM on Saturday morning. The sun is already stretching its arms and I'm radiating energy from the center of my chest and I'm thinking about you.
The thought, just the thought, fills me with gentle warmth. You see, I had written about you before, but didn't expect you to arrive quite so early. I'm glad you didn't bother with the formalities this time around. I'm a world of excitement and wonder right now. The only thing you're missing is the 1950's tollbooth. How do I even begin?
Your touch is sunrise and twilight and all of the best parts of every season: the newness of spring, the warmth of summer, the gentle transition of fall, and the silence beauty of winter snow. You do so much without even trying and I will always fail to grasp how on earth I could be allowed to possess a gift so lavish. I just don't know.
It seems like not long ago, we were so peripheral to each other; I imagine that I was to you. Now.... dear God now. Now the sunrise is a text that says "Buenos dias" and the moon and stars make their way to the nighttime sky as you write "Hey you, how was your day?" This is littered with letters and conversations about everything from the mundane to the monumental. I don't know how you exist. You weren't supposed to. I even ranted about your not existing.
Then you walk, just as casually and boldly as you please, onto the canvas of my life with streaks of gold, green, and purple in your wake. You're so gentle. Regal. How do I even go on with these descriptions? Then you speak to me. You're brave, afraid, and so very life-giving. You're so loving and - somehow - you love everything about me. Did I mention that I don't get this?
Then there is the feel of you. The way you lace your fingers with mine. I can still feel them there. They belong here. Maybe I waited this whole time just to hold your hand. I am so okay with that. The way you are so sensitive to everything. You see so much without my saying it. I don't know if I have a person in my life that has your level of insight even when I give them a written guide.
You fill me with so much peace. So much more this than anything. Just peace. You are the least demanding person I know. You want me to be and grow and thrive and you place no demands on what that involves. You make me bolder somehow, braver, more alive. I was doing okay beforehand, but now I don't know how I even functioned. It's so stupid. So very stupid. So beautifully stupid.
The insane thing is, it gets better. It grows longer. I get to keep walking with you. Why on earth did you keep me waiting so long? It was hard waiting, you know. Do you know? I mean really hard. If there is a such thing as a next life or reincarnation, you need to catch me in grade school and make sure I never get out of your sight. Ever.
I'm already thinking about the letters we will write and that I will read while crying, laughing, thoughtfully pondering the response to as I draw on ages-old wisdom to talk to you about the contents. I'm smiling in front of the bedroom window and it is 7:26PM and it was a long day, but there's that envelope with your name on it and I feel energized to read and read and read and read and I forgot that I was supposed to eat dinner and I hug your letter as if somehow, if I wish hard enough, you would appear right then and there and....
...I love you so much.
The thought, just the thought, fills me with gentle warmth. You see, I had written about you before, but didn't expect you to arrive quite so early. I'm glad you didn't bother with the formalities this time around. I'm a world of excitement and wonder right now. The only thing you're missing is the 1950's tollbooth. How do I even begin?
Your touch is sunrise and twilight and all of the best parts of every season: the newness of spring, the warmth of summer, the gentle transition of fall, and the silence beauty of winter snow. You do so much without even trying and I will always fail to grasp how on earth I could be allowed to possess a gift so lavish. I just don't know.
It seems like not long ago, we were so peripheral to each other; I imagine that I was to you. Now.... dear God now. Now the sunrise is a text that says "Buenos dias" and the moon and stars make their way to the nighttime sky as you write "Hey you, how was your day?" This is littered with letters and conversations about everything from the mundane to the monumental. I don't know how you exist. You weren't supposed to. I even ranted about your not existing.
Then you walk, just as casually and boldly as you please, onto the canvas of my life with streaks of gold, green, and purple in your wake. You're so gentle. Regal. How do I even go on with these descriptions? Then you speak to me. You're brave, afraid, and so very life-giving. You're so loving and - somehow - you love everything about me. Did I mention that I don't get this?
Then there is the feel of you. The way you lace your fingers with mine. I can still feel them there. They belong here. Maybe I waited this whole time just to hold your hand. I am so okay with that. The way you are so sensitive to everything. You see so much without my saying it. I don't know if I have a person in my life that has your level of insight even when I give them a written guide.
You fill me with so much peace. So much more this than anything. Just peace. You are the least demanding person I know. You want me to be and grow and thrive and you place no demands on what that involves. You make me bolder somehow, braver, more alive. I was doing okay beforehand, but now I don't know how I even functioned. It's so stupid. So very stupid. So beautifully stupid.
The insane thing is, it gets better. It grows longer. I get to keep walking with you. Why on earth did you keep me waiting so long? It was hard waiting, you know. Do you know? I mean really hard. If there is a such thing as a next life or reincarnation, you need to catch me in grade school and make sure I never get out of your sight. Ever.
I'm already thinking about the letters we will write and that I will read while crying, laughing, thoughtfully pondering the response to as I draw on ages-old wisdom to talk to you about the contents. I'm smiling in front of the bedroom window and it is 7:26PM and it was a long day, but there's that envelope with your name on it and I feel energized to read and read and read and read and I forgot that I was supposed to eat dinner and I hug your letter as if somehow, if I wish hard enough, you would appear right then and there and....
...I love you so much.
No comments:
Post a Comment