I Guess

I guess you could say this is a coming of age story.

I was so scared to take apart the high fence topped with barbed wire that I so carefully built over the years. The metal chain braided and woven with every hurtful word; words like “I got bored”.  Shattered hopes of a life-long love that faded quicker than a sunset glued together all the pieces. My fence was built from what if’s that never amounted to anything, from cell phone words that never got a response, from endless first dates talking about menial things and knowing in the first five minutes there would not be second. From thinking no one would ever excite me again.

I cautiously laced the barbed wire at the very top. I had built a life that I wanted to protect.  A family full of love, friends that became family, a job that made me independent. I built happiness. I was not a puzzle without a piece, I was whole the way I was. I was so protective over this beautiful life of mine.  My fear was that should I introduce anything new, all of it would crumble faster than a house of cards. Any new person would throw off the delicately balanced tabletop that I had built upon. Then you came along.

I guess you could say I took a risk.

I took a chance that the wind you blew into my life would not throw my cards into ruin. That simply your presence would act like a folded-up napkin pushed under uneven legs of a table, reinforcing everything else. I took a chance that you meant the words that came out of your mouth. That unlike any of the other ones, your heart was actually in those phrases that you threw into my ears.

After only a couple long talks, I knew I was jumping. The water was murky, but I dipped my toe and it was so warm. The situation was high risk, high reward. With my stomach in knots, knowing it could be a big mistake or the best decision of my life, I leapt.

I guess I just wanted to say thank you for making this easy.

You’ve done more than folded up a napkin or throw-away menu to sturdy the table. You pave a road with every “when we” you say.  With every reassurance that I’ve asked for, you built a stable ground beneath me. With the way you look at me, you lead me to walk down that road with confidence. You’ve built a ground that I want to walk with you on, water & plant flowers along it in the years to come.

You’ve made it so easy for me to slowly unravel that sharp wire that I so carefully thread. Your hands have slowly undone the braided chain, making me feel safe in doing so.

I guess I should admit that I’m fully in this.

I was always the one that got annoyed when people said “you know when you know.” I’m not sure if it’s unfortunate or fortunate that I now agree with them. You really do know when you know. And I know.

I know that I want to wake up next to you, fingers entwined. That a dog might be in between us, and someday it might be a child. I know that I don’t feel a need to rush. That I want to treasure every moment, every chapter of this life that I get to live with you. I know that I don’t need you, but I want you. And that you feel the same. That is more powerful to me, to choose each other; not by a necessity, but because of a deep desire.

I know that your toothbrush in my holder is where I want it to stay. I want your shoes on my mat, your arm around me. I know that I want you as my dance partner on Saturday night, and my hangover partner on Sunday morning. I know that I want you to shine, and when you do, I’ll have the loudest noisemaker cheering you on. I know that when you have a bad day, or week, or year, I want to be the one holding you up, the one you rest your head on. I know that I choose you, every day.

I guess I just wanted to say that it’s been so much fun falling in love with you.