We walk together out to the laundry shed, a basket of his clothes balanced on my hip like a baby. He’s damp and flushed and looks a little dazed, just the way you might expect a man to look after he’s just driven across a desert. He says, ‘I worked all day today, just so I could leave’; ‘all that just to see me’ I tease and he agrees, except he’s not joking. He is here to see me and a sense of peace washes over me.
He comes through the front door like a man coming home to something he’s always been a part of. The puppies greet him excitedly, I lean back and smile. I’ll surely feel the lack of him when he’s gone, but today his presence fills in the space around me and makes the house feel homey.
We stay home, sleep in late on the weekends, and savor every extra second. Sometimes I’ll awake several times before he does, and I’ll just watch him for a while. He looks younger when his furrowed brow is at rest, and peaceful, like ease and comfort. In the mornings we sit out in the yard sipping coffee and smoking- laughing at the antics of the dogs. Life seems complete here, and my heart feels light. I bask in the sweet sensations. Words come easily now, sometimes something, sometimes nothing, I watch as his mind awakens. As the caffeine enters his veins philosophy begins to engulf the streams of conversation. I sit back with a smile and listen as he expounds upon his views, from pecans, to greater purpose, each with equal fervor. I’m perfectly content here, getting to know the man I love.
I’ve never known a relationship such as this before and marvel at its simple complexities. There’s he, and me, and we, and each as its own entity. We overlap, we converge, and we look at each other across the gaps of completely discrepant views. Respect is mutual, and attention shared, I’m simultaneously a half, as well as a whole. Each day I find more of myself, in the space we’ve chosen to share, and I’m grateful for the room to grow in.