Love Letter 9

I saw you last night. We were supposed to be having a serious, productive conversation and of course we did, but for those first few minutes I just couldn’t get out of my head how gorgeously, heart stoppingly wonderful it is just to be with you – whatever the reason. It makes my heart dance.  You can tell I’m just wild about you because I had to make up a new word to describe it. And now it’s like that little red squiggly mark Microsoft puts under an incorrectly spelled word has taken on a new meaning; red squiggly = passion! But last night, once I settled in and the Skype screen settled down, and I could gain my focus, I found myself listening with a smile breaking out on my face – a smile that mirrored yours I might add. Then you almost casually pushed all those little unimportant things aside and opened me up in just that place I am afraid to be. But did I run from the fear? No, not a chance, not with you there, thousands of miles away, with your arms somehow outstretched, saying, without saying, I’m here to mother you. I wrote to Barbara a day or two ago and told her that, “I could not love all the others if I did not first love you.” It is so rich and exciting to find out that what actually expands and magnifies my love for you is that she and I love you together. That seamless coat of the universe has deeply wonderful features as it knits all of us together. I find that I miss your strength and sweetness, your clear focus and your warmth when you’re so far away. I see it at the oddest moments you know. Sometime you’ll have to tell me how you do it. How do you get making a cup of tea – just that simple mundane task of making a cup of tea – to look like it holds infinite pleasure.

I love you. Declaring that to you helps me know what those words mean. Thank you.

Love Sam