Blue Skies

http://weirdowadlow.tumblr.com/

I won’t be able to put stuff up on it for a few days since I’m not at home, but I will be putting up recipes, pictures, pattern links/sewing ideas, other people’s projects, and what not.  

I want a meet-cute. I don’t want you to send me a strange IM or a creepy text. I want to run into you at a coffee shop, or at a bookstore, or my favorite restaurant, or just in the middle of a random sidewalk, or you can even steal the chair next to me in class, but I want it to be in real life, not a cop-out over technology.  I don’t want some awkward “Hi, I’m [insert stupid name here]” I want a witty comment, one that will stick with me for the rest of us.

I want to wait in apprehension for the next time I see you. I don’t want to talk to you until then, no IM, no text.  Then when I see you, I want you to be awkward, but the cute kind. You know, hands in your pockets, staring when you don’t think I’m looking, mixing up your words, that kind of awkward.  I want to walk aimlessly and talk to you for endless hours about life, ourselves, our heartaches, our smiles, talk for so long that we forget that we had any plans aside from that one life altering walk.  By the end of the day we will feel like we have known each other for years and it will seem strange that there was a time when you weren’t in my life.

After that walk we will continue on our original path. Maybe it was coffee; you drink it black.  Or maybe it was a bookstore; you love the smell of used books.  Or, maybe we had planned on food; you are open to trying anything once or twice.  But, we’ll go and we’ll sit.  On occasion our legs or feet will touch and we will make eye contact, but of course neither of us will say a word, for it would ruin the fun of leaving it unacknowledged. We will continue to talk.  By then I will have noticed certain things about you: you’re comfortable, but not cocky, your presence is powerful enough to put me at ease, you fidget with your hands, your laugh and smile are genuine, when you look at me you aren’t searching, it is more like you are simply looking at me, not my clothes or thinking, just looking. Most of all, you feel like home. I am not sure what exactly about you that feels like home, maybe it is your smile, the way you walk, the way you are always doing something with your hands, the way you look around, or maybe it is just you.  Maybe it is something that I could never hope to place, not matter how thoroughly I picked apart and analyzed you, me, and us.

Then, our time together will come to an end.  Maybe we will kiss, maybe it will send the butterflies in my stomach into upheaval, the way you wrap you arms around me firmly but gently at the same time, the way your lips feel against mine, but that isn’t the important part. The important part is the hug.  That is when I will know I’ve found home, when I know that I will miss your skin on my skin every second that you aren’t with me.  You will wrap your arms around me and I’ll just sink into you.  For that moment all time ceases to exist, no matter how long we stand there, it won’t be too long and, I know that I would be perfectly and completely happy with my stomach pressed against yours for the rest of my life, and for whatever it is that comes after that.

Maybe I am getting ahead of myself.  No, I don’t think I am in love with you after two encounters, but the possibility is there. And, when I look back on it, I will feel as if I was already completely and irrevocably in love with you.  At that point, there was no turning back.  I knew that you are different from that first moment we talked.

Fast-forward, I don’t know to when, a few years from now.  I get to wake up next to you everyday.  I never feel like I need to be alone for a while, though we aren’t attached at the hip.  We have had our fights, some of them worse than others.  On occasion, one of them is really bad and we can’t function for days. But, then we make up and hug, and everything falls back into its place, and I can’t wait to wake up next to you tomorrow again, not that I ever didn’t.  We will have fallen into a routine, but it never is dull or repetitive, it is exciting to see you every day and every night and to wake up to you every morning.  Maybe we will cuddle at night, maybe not, but I will still feel you there and sleep better than I ever knew was possible.  You won’t steal the blankets, and goodness I hope you won’t snore. But, if you do, I won’t mind terribly, eventually I won’t be able to sleep without it.  And, in the mornings we will both be a wreck, with horrible breath and messy hair, but you will still get that look in your eyes when they fall upon me, and I will still feel warm all over at the sight of you.  

Maybe you will cook, maybe you will clean, and maybe you won’t.  We will figure it out on the way.    But, one thing you will do: make me feel comfortable.  I will never feel embarrassed, or disgusting, or even worried with you in my life.  Just knowing I will get to see you will make every single day tolerable.  You will know all of my buttons, but hopefully you won’t press them very often.  And, I will know all of yours, and, I will press them far more than I should, but eventually I will learn.

Sure, not everything will be smiles and cuddling.  There will be a considerable amount of tears, and frowns, and worries.  But, when I think about you, about us, it will be tinted a lovely shade of yellow with undertones of happiness, and everything will be completely saturated with love, no matter the pain or anger or sorrow of the moment.

I won’t admit it, but I will have a future planned.  I will have imaginary pictures of you as a father, as an old man.  Nothing will be specific, just a montage of possibilities and hopes.  Because, that’s all anything really is: possibility.

Reblogging my own shit because I feel like it.