Four years ago today Steve and I went on our first date. We knew each other prior to that, at least casually; I gave him rides to and from AA meetings sometimes, we stood around outside the meeting hall and talked, that kind of thing. I thought he was cute, and funny, but I was dating someone at the time, and he was also sort of seeing someone, and-well. Then he was gone for awhile, and came back about 9 months later. I was glad to see him; like I said, he was cute and funny. He came to my house that next morning for coffee, made a plan to go to the movies that night, and the rest, as they say, is history, right?
So many ups and downs, sideways turns and flat dead stops along the way, yet here he is now in my bed at night. He has been there for about three months now; him being there has not yet become commonplace, and I hope it doesn’t. Even when we are fighting (which we rarely do), or during those little lulls where things are just kind of coasting along for a day or two, when there is a distance between us, I still turn toward him in the night.
None of this was planned or expected, this jump into love. I don’t know where it will end up, don’t know how to do the relationship thing very well, am crazy and neurotic a good part of the time. But he jumped into it too, making to commitment to move in and become part of our family, and it has been-well.
I don’t have the words, I really don’t. My throat gets clogged and my eyes tear up, my fingers stopping on the keys for long pauses in between words. This is enough; for this moment, this day, I am resting in the loveliness of feeling like my cup is not just full, but overflowing.