Three Companions

I have several companions tonight as I wait quietly alone for my husband to return. The rain keeps me company, with its threatening and enlivening descent through the sky, illuminated by the sharp cracks of lightening.  The precipitation seems endless and unabating, forming formidable currents down stairways and sidewalks and streets. The sound is startling yet comforting, breaking the silence of our apartment which is becoming more like home every day. This is where we are living our lives. This is where we are becoming; becoming things that seem truly great. In this apartment the smell of baked goods fills the void of smell and taste, with its buttery sweet charm and filling, rich comfort. Each bite helps to soothe my nagging hunger and to pass the seemingly endless minutes and hours and days and weeks. My third escort of the evening likes to remind me frequently of her presence. She twists and turns and jabs and kicks, and without her even knowing she also turns me. She turns my mind and heart and soul with greater force each day, causing my emotions to fall and gather and swell until I too create great rivers and gushing tides down the gutters of my veins. I too flash and rumble with new understandings and light as I ponder what is to come, who I will be, who Dave will be, and how nights like this will soon cease to exist. Never again will I be alone. She will be with me. She will need me and I will need her. Desperately I will need her, as I am now beginning to see how important she is in helping me to twist and jab, growing in this small space of humanness until I become that person that seems truly great. 

But until then I wait and try to find comfort in these precious and satisfying companions as I do now.

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.