The warm glow of a fresh new day washed over me, causing my eyes to flutter and pry themselves open from their deep sleep. Instinctively, I reached over and ran my hand up and down the bed, hoping. But it was only the velvety smooth cotton sheets which my fingertips drank up.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Reaching over to the nightstand, I retrieved my phone.
“Good morning :)
Hope you slept well
mwah,” is what his text read.
Biting my lower lip, I grinned and typed a sweet reply, threw the covers off to the side, and shuffled into the kitchen. Retrieving my favorite coffee mug, I filled it with a freshly brewed dark-roasted goodness.
Falling down into the overstuffed couch, curling myself into the corner, I stared out over the lip of my mug, watching the steam swirl and twirl from it. I thought about turning on the news or opening the paper, but my mind, as always, was preoccupied with him.
We’d met in the rarest of circumstances and, unfortunately, at that time, our lives as they were, weren’t conducive to being together in any other way than we were.
I’d always thought of myself as incapable of falling in love. I’d loved people, of course, but never really fell completely. Never felt as though I needed someone. But, for as much as I didn’t want to succumb to the feelings which had always frightened me, his sweet, caring nature quickly began to prove me wrong. And for the first time in my life, I awoke to the thought of one person, walked through the day dreaming of that same person, and, when it was time to lay my head upon my pillow, it was, yet again, only him which invaded my mind, my heart, all of me. Drifting to sleep with the dreams of simply being able to hear him and to see him each and every day.
Blowing at the steam wafting before me, I took a sip and chuckled. Remembering the first time I’d heard his voice. The deep rumble of his laugh vibrating through the phone, and my soul. Remembering how I smiled hearing the clicks he made when he was deep in thought or trying desperately to remember what it was he was about to tell me. Our conversations ranged from the deeply profound to the kind of silliness that left you giggling like a school child. It was, as he was, perfect.
And as happy as I was to have him in any way that I could, I wondered, and, over the years, began to doubt… will these dreams ever be a reality? On the harder of days, I tried to let go of the thought of him. Tried to move on and see something, even a fraction of what I saw in him in someone, anyone else, but I couldn’t. He made all others seem boring and anything but beautiful. And as tortured as my existence was having so much of him, yet, still, not having any of him, I knew that it would be impossible for me to live in this world without him. The fact was, I… needed him.
I closed my eyes and reflected upon it all. A tear rolled down my cheek.
Two hands squeezed my shoulders and soft lips swept across the side of my face.
“I’m back,” he said as his kissed away my tear. “What are you thinking about?”
I smiled at him as he fell back into the overstuffed couch, grabbing the paper, holding down the corner and looking at me, smiling.
“Just thinking about how perfect it all is. How perfect… you are.”
His cheeks reddened slightly – I loved when they did that – and he blew me a kiss, disappearing behind the black and white writings of a world with far too little love in it. And as I listened to him ramble away about the articles he read, I smiled, that bright, wide, goofy smile that only he made me have, and I sank back further into the dreamy comfort that was, after far too long, finally, our reality.