Friday, June 1, 2012
I stand in the hallway. The kitchen light illuminating the darkness of the quiet, empty apartment. In a blue negligee. Its too big for me. Not too big for my breasts but what else is new. It displays them perfectly, but the rest hangs off me. Over my waist as if it didnt exist, or my hips, I never imagined them obselete. And are there legs beneath? You couldn't know. We were in the pouring rain earlier. We went for chocolate milk. Low-fat of course after our 5:30 Crossfit workout. Then we got groceries. Sweet potatoes. Asparagus. Salmon. Blackberries. Eggs. The streets were flooded. I tried to cross the street, but my sneakers were soaked. The wind was strong enough to blow my umbrella inside out. We watched an episode of Good Wife while we ate. He closed his eyes half way through. Sometimes he gets tired early on a Friday night and goes to bed. Sometimes he's a very old soul in a young man's body. Tall and lean and muscled. It used to bother me. It is still in our apartment. Except for a car alarm several blocks away. And the party going on two floors up. But in our home, it is peaceful. I think: my happiness has come. He's in the next room, sleeping. Breathing heavy. Already taking up my side with his never ending length and legs and limbs. The man whose hair spikes when out of the shower. Whose glasses are bent. Who tells me he loves me more than three fuckin tons. Every date was worth it. Every awkward first date. Bowling date. Drink date. Blind date. Fourth date. Dinner date. Group date. Regretful hookups. We just found each other. One day. Like any other. And the onset wasn't always simple. Or easy. Or sure. But now, loving him is so much- almost too much to bear. Being loved by him is like a gift I don't deserve. But I am grateful for it. I don't doubt we'll have our challenges. But here, alone, in the silent darkness, I know, my happiness has finally, finally, come.