So last Friday night, we had a spack. Loving as hard as we do, it brings forth some less desirable emotions, as well. If I was going to be completely serious, there are more than a couple of fears I hold for the future of us. The most potent fear is probably that of whether we can keep this thing burning, whether we'll still be so in love one, five, ten years down the track. It is not something that keeps me up at night - I know that I am deeply and profoundly in love with this man. I know that besides that, I also just plain love him. Quiet, steady, appreciation. An everyday joy. The bread 'n butter. I know that when he does something that I find annoying, I can step back and remind myself of that joy. That when we're emotionally hurt, and sleeping on opposite sides of the bed, I can find it in myself to tuck my body against his, and tell him that even if we're not madly in love every second of being together, I still love him, in that quiet, steady way. My fears are the kind that are assuaged with every growing year, every strengthening tie.
But he raised his own fear - that of the life unlived. Of other girls, and other paths. I can admit that my initial, visceral reaction brought me to my metaphorical knees. Still not sure where the line is drawn between 'honest' and 'too honest'. My ex-coworker once told me that her and her husband did some self-censoring - that their hearts and minds went to dark places sometimes, and that they shielded one another from that. He reassured me after, but as he told me that he loved me, that I was perfect, that I was everything he'd ever wanted, that sowing wild oats wasn't great at all, and that he had few long-term relationships because he was picky - I quaked a little with the thought of losing him. His fear is the kind that grows with time.
Reading back on some of the things I've written about D, our love feels like a tumultuous rush. From here, though, it doesn't, really. It just feels right and good and wonderful. I am never happier than when I am wrapped in his arms, tucked into that spot between neck and shoulder. We are going to be OK. I am going to go to South America, going to have the time of my life, and I am going to come home to D. And from then, my marvelous adventures shall also be his adventures.
Late Thursday night, I cried a little in bed, for happy reasons that time. Late Thursday night, as we talked about the futures ahead of us, he paused in the dark. Buried his face a little further into my breast, and spoke out to the room. "I know this is getting a little ahead of time, but I think I want to go overseas in a few years." Beat. I nod, and my blood pulses. "Would you come with me?" - and the tears spill forth, and my choked 'yes' comes smothered in his skin, elated and low. When I recover myself, I bring my nose to meet his, and stroke that beautiful face with my palms. Tell him "yes" again.
"I wish to go where you go, and sleep where you sleep."
