Six days from now is the one year anniversary of light in my life. 01-27-2011 is the day that Jim arrived from a cross-country drive from Georgia and brought with him evidence that this wait has been more than worthwhile.
Part of me is astonished that “it’s been a year already” and part is chuckling because it feels as if we’ve been together all our lives. I doubt I can adequately convey what a truly amazing thing it is to literally feel as if someone is so much a part of your life that you cannot imagine life without them, so I’ll not try; simply say that this is as it is and I am so ridiculously happy with it that I could melt.
I find that I am beginning to understand and identify with the sentiment contained in the statement, “he completes me”; I never realized just how bereft I really was until that sense of missing departed. Even more interestingly, this isn’t some romantic rainbow and roses thing; there is no sense of the tawdry, tinsel titillation that it seems the world is so fond of using when describing such things.
This, I think, is how I know “it’s real”; we have this bedrock of simplicity and camaraderie and warmth that would gaze quite disinterestedly upon the notion of frills and lace, or of fripperies and formalities that are so commonly associated with “romance”.
I find love is like a warm, comfortable, favorite blanket; it settles without binding, it cozens without constricting, it comforts without calculation, and is really quite a humble thing, indeed.
The tug of culture and society happen here and there, making me feel as if I should “rhapsodize”, but it would just feel false. I mean, how do you define the feeling you get looking upon something truly beautiful and precious? Can mere words really encompass it? I think not.
Now and again, I wake up in the middle of the night and he’s all mussed and warm with sleep; one arm tossed askance and innocently open in the way only the truly trusting ever are… and I think about all the days and nights of emptiness and silence between “then” and “now”… and I think about the many ways he so gently and naturally manages to be precisely what I need and want in every moment… and the swell of thankfulness and delight and care rushes over me like a tidal wave and spills out of my eyes, and I cry.
I love these happy tears. I’ve never really had them like this in my life and I delight in them… and in him.
And I am constantly befuddled and surprised that he thinks he’s lucky to have me. Or that he thinks he does “next to nothing” or only “the best he can”. What a life… when you can feel as if what you do is not spectacular when it is so entirely wondrous and amazing. (Of course, I feel the same way in relation to him and we often laugh because it seems neither of us feel we’re quite “doing all we can” and ever do we feel amazed and thankful of the other’s devotion and presence… maybe this is what makes it all work so well? I do not really know and frankly, I do not spend a lot of time thinking on it, surprisingly.)
All I know is this: Outside of my daughter, he is the best thing that has ever arrived in my life. I find more every day to be grateful of as a result of his presence, and less every day to fear or fret for it, too. I wish everyone could have and know the succor of something such as this.
Love, frankly, seems a paltry and inferior word in this moment; but it will have to do.
Jim: A lo largo de mi vida, no don más grande que he encontrado en la atención, el amor y la confianza de un hombre verdaderamente bueno. Gracias por ser como eres. Siempre y en todas formas, te amo.