Confession

“You all a glow
from the love he put in you”


It’s like that.

Glowing.

I want to articulate it. Press it down into words so I better can understand this fire that is lit in me. And perhaps with understanding I can temper it. Stoke it so that the flash is not followed by cold.

Not that I want to rid myself of the heat. No No No.

I don’t think he understand this ferociousness. Instead, he questions how he can behave badly and I just shrug it off. I have asked this of myself too… is it that I have lowered my expectations? Or is it hat I have finally gotten real. Now my affection is tempered with reality.

Love is an action word.

I have said this to friends so repeatedly that I feel like a cliché. It’s my quintessential relationship advice.

J. can try and test me… attempt to calculate my endurance, but what he has not figured out is that it does not matter. There is the man inside his actions that speaks louder and more clearly than his silliness. (And I secretly like the silliness.) When we get down to it, J. is not disrespectful or ignorant of my boundaries. In fact, the quiet sweetness under it all is what I love the most. It is uncontrived. There are no diamonds here. Only amber agates. Muddled and varied in color, but always something beautiful.

Often, as women (and yes, men are guilty of this too) we misrepresent action. We read into each little scrap far too intensely, forgetting to look at the entire picture. A few pieces of garbage will not disfigure the beauty of a beach… it’s only the eyes of the beholder. (Yes yes, eventually we have to take a hard look… but I am not speaking about that.)

I spent four days away for my Birthday. We explored together, laughed… had moments of silence… endured one another’s’ driving… slept in a terrible bed… shared a bathroom. And I am still in glow.

Oh wait… there WAS that parking ticket……


G.