July 8, 2005

• I thought I was losing her.

  
  

  She was stripping ahead of me. Not that I needed to be ahead, but she plunged headlong into waters I couldn't understand. I wanted to be with her always. I told her things that no one else knew, and did things that made me rethink what I had always known.

  
  

  She told me of the symbolism in hair-cutting, and I, who have never cut my own hair, watched as she cut hers.

  
  

  I knew then with startling contradiction, as I saw the clippings in the sink, that I would never lose her. That outstrip me and venture beyond the boundaries of my understanding she might, I would always be with her, and she with me.

  
  

  My salvation, my light.

  
  

  With her, I am never dissatisfied, but content in whatever the day chooses to be. An hour, a few, a day or a week, time doesn't matter. When we do nothing, it is everything. Beautiful and spontaneous and appealing.

  
  

  We are not soulmates. We are more. We are two wholes, with patches placed there by each other, not to heal the wounds inflicted by this world, but to repair them and make us better than what they were. Fulfilling completion. We aren't the same. No, we are reflections of each good thing we have to offer, thrown together by circumstance and held together by love.

  
  

  We are everything that is good and right, and all that is dark and frightening. I don't fear tomorrow because I have her, and whether it be dark or light, we shine together.

  
  

  Shine.

  • 4:38 am
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