Cinnamon-coffee eyes, strong safe arms that hold me tight, one of the hardest working people I know, mischievous smirks, so many smarts up in that head, such clever and gentle and strong hands. Not perfect, but perfect human people are a myth and intimidating, and he wouldn’t need me if so. This way I get to watch and help him grow.
So grateful for my brown eyed love.
February 2, 2017.
Bible study, talking in the car. I loved his rich brown eyes and told him so. A sigh, eye contact, shaking hands. A declaration of love and interest. An answer.
So. Much. Joy.
Snowflakes started falling, an arm around me, bliss.
My childhood friend and crush who I always thought I weirded out, is now my person. And it is the happiest things.
reading through journals and old poems and prose, realizing I haven’t written like that in a while, even though I want to. The best way to get back into it, I’ve found, is writing here.
Writing out what comes to mind, then hitting Publish, the thoughts go official.
Past words and remembers…
That night i danced alone until I tripped,
my head, piano, and knee collided somehow,
curled on the floor for a few minutes holding my hair until the ache left, wondering how I managed to do that.
Funny how you can miss and yearn for things you’ve never had, craving tastes yet to be savored… part of them earthly, but you can also feel and aches for Heaven. Where no longer we have the cursed version II, we’ll have the fully restored original, and it’ll be so beautiful. To feel you fit. To have your heart full. To talk with the Lord.
Abba, keep my silly heart next to Yours.
Honestly, there are words that I want to write, things that I want so much to say, but if there’s anything I’ve learned in this life it’s that the right thing at the wrong time is the wrong thing. So I’ll wait a while longer, and soon I think I’ll speak.