Laundry List


This is how we love, With the utmost care but not having to be careful. With our intuition, which is always right, and our absolute desire–as if there really is no other choice, at least not one we’d want to make–but to see the light in each other. How could we not?

If I have a laundry list for you, it is this:

How you literally make new friends on street corners.

How you pick up the tab at the end of a delectable meal where I began expanding my culinary horizons, no matter how little money you may have right now.

How you think I look hot first thing in the morning when my hair is crazy and I tend to see how my eyelids are starting to sag just a little behind my purple glasses.

How in twenty minutes you write your entire life down and honor your mother even though there were times with her, many times, when you feared for your life.

How your kids pile on your bed still, though they are young women now, and you tell real-life ghost stories that give us all chills.

How you let me know you so entirely, let me touch the cells and remnant fragments of stories that still embed in your body so that they can heal and heal.

How you kneel at altars of Hindu gods and goddesses and see holiness in children’s faces and see a child’s face in everyone you meet.

How you have a relationship with not only your characters but with the typewriter itself, an extension of your ability to access other worlds that live concurrent to the one where you stand so grounded and solid.

How you tear up over the prospect of $1,200 shoes and know that mint green will be the menswear color of the coming summer, but don’t mind that I’ve been wearing essentially the same outfit for the last twenty-five years.

How your instincts are so honed, I trust you with my life, and how this carries no hidden costs, no fine print.

How I grow taller in your presence, and more vulnerable. And these are the same.

How like me you want it all, to have and to give away, and how you embody balance in this and ten thousand ways.

How you hold me and I don’t remember drifting off to sleep, only wake knowing I am safe safe safe, the chant that greets another ordinary day, a wish laced not by frustration but with wisps of honey and ancient oils.

This, a life so big you want to live forever and you do, you will.

You are life forever, no beginnings or endings, only beauty and goodness, a being I fall in love with with every breath, and beyond.

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