Thick and Thin

Tonight I felt thin. As in thick and thin, as in unsubstantial and incapable, as in lacking or not enough.  I felt far away from loved ones. I felt far away from comfort and familiarity.  Dave held me and rocked me gently, speaking sweet things and reassurances.  It took me back to the real, true essence of our relationship. I could almost hear the squeak of the outdoor swing at my parent's house as we moved to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. That's where we fell. It was there that we whispered sacred and true things about ourselves and our feelings, where we finally admitted out loud that we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together.  He held me tonight and I knew, again, that he was the one. He's the one that I want to raise our children. He's the one that will slowly but surely whittle away at my rough edges. He's the one that I want to fall asleep next to when I become wrinkled and grey. Tonight he made up for my "thinness," and made me feel like it would all be okay. He has confidence in me, and that is enough for me. If he thinks I can do it, than maybe I really can. The feeling was fulness, thickness, wholeness.  Maybe I now understand a little better what this phrase "think and thin" means. Thank you Dave.