Monthly Archive for August, 2007

38


We met at a cookout. We ate blueberries. She spilled her water.

Date 1:
Date 2:
Date 3:
Date 4:
Date 5:
Date 6:
Date 7:
Date 26: Mario Bros.
Date 27: 69

37

I haven’t written much about her. About us. But today is one of those days. I’ve opened up all of the windows in the house, opened the front door, the place is a mess because I’m packing but I want to let the world in. I’m playing some music and cleaning up, putting things in boxes, thinking about her, thinking about our future together.

So where to start? The beginning is something neither of us can figure out so we make it up as we go… as of this moment, we met in Chicago. And there is our beginning.

For much too long, I was a cynic. The idea of falling in love with someone in 4 days and KNOWING it and TRUSTING it was something made for fairy tales. My experience in the past with love did not prepare me for the ease at which I fell for her.

She is so many things. And in our conversations and emails and texts I think we’ve used up all of the available words. All I can think to say is that we found each other at just the right moment in our lives. Our past has prepared us for this and were we to have met six months ago, things would not have turned out the way they have. And for that I am happy. Because above all else, in her and in this, I am happy. There is a comfort. A lack of pressure to move at a certain pace or to force things which need not be forced.

She is beautiful. Both in the way her body moves the air around her as well as in the way she thinks and in the way she views the world and her place in it. She is beautiful in the way she looks at me. In the depth of her eyes and her expression. In the way she touches me. In the curves of her body. In her smell. In the clothes she wears. She is beautiful in that I can hear her smile even though I cannot see it. In her love of smells and things of old. In her honesty. She is beautiful in the way she carries herself and in the way she treats others.

She is inspiring. Both in her hope for the future as well as her appreciation for the past and present. She makes you pay attention to the moments as though each one could be your last… or as if each one is a first. She is my muse. I create for her to make her smile. To show her as often as possible that she holds a special place both in my heart and in the world. She is inspiring in her vulnerability.

I like that already, our relationship contains so many colors. We are in love. We are silly. We are quiet. We are tender. We are rough. We are in the company of one another. We are text-a-holics. We miss each other. We give to each other. We share with each other. We are honest with each other. We think about the future together. We dream together. We sleep together. We wake together. We drink coffee together. Mine light and sweet. Hers black. We tell stories. We leave notes. We are equally quirky. We are intense. We are adventurous. We are kids. We have ‘inside jokes’ and cute phrases. We are adults. We talk about adult things. We are in love and we are both okay saying it. And knowing it. And feeling it. And we are ready.

“I’ll be your tree.”
“That can be date [enter number here]”
“mmHm-mmHm-mmHm”
“NUCK!”
“Gnocchi in the park? Gnocchi after dark? Would you could you in a box? On a plane? On a train?”

I love the fact that we share an appreciation for the rusted, lost and forgotten. I love that we hold hands. I love that we recently discovered our ‘official first date.’ I love that she spilled her water. I love that we made out on her back porch. I love that I see no reason not to make out with her everywhere. I love the mere act of loving her. I love that she loves me. I am the LUCKIEST boy in the whole wide world. I love that we can swap emails about our future home, about things so seemingly insignificant as jacket hooks by the front door and yet the idea is so completely wonderful. I love that in my heart, I know that our relationship will forever be about discovery.

And for this. Forever discovery. This will never end. This post. Us.

Re:

Another lonely day. Missing her. I want so much to be close to her. To be there in Chicago where our lives can learn the art of compromise and of proximity and compassion and time and lust and love and we can go on dates or walk the streets at night, hand in hand, kissing at intersections, talking about life.

Although we talked about me moving up there in January, it’s so far away. My brain is working overtime trying to come up with ways to afford moving there sooner.

Close your eyes.

OMG.

34

But sometimes I miss her so much it hurts (crippling)… and I don’t know what to do.

[update] I called her. We are equally obsessive and equally intense. God I love this girl.

I couldn’t say it better

Carey. This is for you.

It’s like jelly baby ;)

32

So much more than expected.

A dog day

I don’t know why he’s doing this. This past week (if not a bit longer) I’ve been getting home from work to find Tucker has eaten something else of mine.

Today I get home and find a half eaten book on the floor (which I had purchased for Carey) and a pen cleaning kit for my illustration pens. I don’t get it.

My first thought is… maybe he’s bored? But he’s never done this before (as an adult). My second thought is maybe this is what I get for not taking him running lately? Is this my payback?

All I know is… it’s not cool.