lianhua.nu

This is the stuff that I dreamed about, that I wrote longing poems about and wished for constantly for years. And now that I have it, it fills my heart so completely, so fully, that it’s overflowing into other parts of me, waiting just behind my eyelids and every moment inching closer to spilling over and out into a million little tears of joy and gratitude and happiness that I never thought I could know.

On the whiteboard in the break room at work, as Thanksgiving draws closer, they’ve laid out markers and an invitation for each of us to share what we’re thankful for, and each time I see it I want to scrawl across it in huge, bright red letters I AM THANKFUL FOR THE LOVE HE GIVES ME. I am thankful for how warm my heart feels. I am thankful for waking up next to him every morning, for hearing him grumble about how he can’t find any socks, for love notes exchanged every day via instant messengers, for being able to wrap my arms around him, for being able to wear his shoes, for how soft his bony shoulders can be, for the smiles that creep across my face when I look at him and see how handsome he is, for the sound of his keys turning in the lock when he comes home in the evening, for the way he holds me whenever I need him, for the faces we make at each other, for the cute little noises he makes in that place between half-awake and half-asleep… for the moments that we share, just him and me, ‘between the click of the light and the start of the dream.’ I am thankful for how beautiful he makes me feel, that I never feel too young or immature or goofy for him, that I never feel like I’m wrong or bad or flawed in his eyes.

I’m starting to feel more secure, more sure of myself, because of him. He’s not going anywhere, just like he tells me. He’s not going to leave and come back someone else. He’s in this for “the long haul,” he tells me. He promises me. He promises me someday, and forever, and he seals it with this little sparkle, this shining, enduring symbol of I’m-Not-Going-Anywhere. He promises me that the goal, the ending, is out there, not too far away, and we know what it is. The goal is forever.

I want everyone to feel like this. I want everyone to be able to look at someone and just know. Anna wrote a blog about swooning over her husband’s thoughtfulness and little expressions of love and kindness. For her, it’s a rush of blood, straight to her cheeks. For me, it’s this welling of tears and this swelling in my heart. And I want everyone to feel it for someone; I want everyone in the world to know this feeling at least once. It’s too precious, too amazing, to live a life and never experience.

Just now, he was laying on the couch, asleep, and I was sitting on the other end. I moved my leg to get more comfortable and he woke up a little — just enough to mumble out, “you’re pretty… you’re really pretty.” And then, he turned and fell back asleep, as if nothing had happened, as if he didn’t make me feel beautiful again (even as I’ve been fighting back those embarrassing happy tears the entire time I’ve been writing this and know that I’m turning an unflattering shade of bright red in doing so), as if he hadn’t just brought that overflow from my heart straight back up, through my throat and right back to… me wiping the tears from my eyes. Is this real? Can I keep this?