I was realizing, scanning over my posts here, that maybe this blog should come with an ADD warning label.
The truth is, I have another blog that I’ve maintained since 2001, and many of the things I post here are mirrored from that site. Erego, Gentle Readers, you are reading snippets of stories without much background provided to you.
And so let me tell you about Bones.
…And I don’t know how to tell you about Bones.
I can map the progression – the move from ‘oh there’s this married friend-of-a-friend I sorta kinda know’ – to laughing on a sofa in a hotel lobby, surrounded by friends – to the moment when you realize ‘oh…oh…oh, it’s him and there will never be an us.’
Prior to that moment, I had given up on the idea of that magic. Oh, I’d had relationships, and I was loved, but…XKCD said it best.
One night, on the phone, in the midst of our growing friendship, angels trumpeted in the background and I knew I was Doing It Wrong for more years than I care to admit. And I might not ever have the chance to Do It Right, because there were too many reasons that this was not the right time.
But nothing else was going to be worth the effort.
We stopped talking, because it’s what he needed. I did a lot of self-work. I visualized. I learned how to not to settle for less than Right. I found a great job, I changed my diet, I started exercising. I bought a tiny claddaugh ring as a promise to myself. Better is possible.
And late one April night, we decided to see if the angels were right.
wedding, June 14 2013
Kissing him for the first time felt like we’d been kissing for eternity, and had only taken a 42 year long break.
Sometimes I press my palm into the curve of his hip, marveling at how well my hand fits there. I trace his face with my fingertips, memorizing each curve until – if it were my language – I could sculpt him from memory. We hold each other’s hands in the dark and tell stories of our night-and-day-different childhoods. We make lists of the adventures not yet experienced, we plan for the futures we couldn’t quite see before. He inspires me with how tirelessly he works on making our home more Home, and he amazes me with how he doesn’t judge me for my struggles with anxiety or my quirky need to write. I don’t think I’ve felt so accepted, so valued. So loved.
…I want to tell you about Bones, and I’m not sure how to do so, because I don’t really have the words.