I wish I could go
where I felt the need to
contrive an answer
I didn't have,
and just say -
I don't know -
Over a little while, I’ve written a small collection of love notes. Romance is beautiful in her everyday skin, and I want to honor that.
He sends me links to videos on Reddit - modern love notes minus the words. They read: I laughed at this and I want my Love’s rejoining joy. Or I learned something here - wonder with me.
Home is sometimes the study we share as a bedroom in my parent’s house; it is sometimes the crow’s caw, which hearkens me back to the small plot of South Carolina Forest, where my grandparents lived; the other night, as we scrolled through Zillow and texted our favorites to each other like Valentine’s, it was your heart - which is more of a home than a house will ever be.
You missed your alarm again, and I was annoyed. You said you had turned down the volume so that I would not hear you texting at night “You do that? You never told me.” And now I’m reading a chapter I skipped in my favorite series of books.
Every night for half a year we’d slip downstairs with the baby monitor and the 8pm meal and watch our favorite show. Not a lot of deep talk - just playing detective with plot points researching characters, saying “don’t tell me!” it we found out too much. I think we both felt bad occasionally for spending so many evenings like this. But we never feel bad looking back.
You bought me flowers on Valentine's Day, because last year I said I didn't need them and you listened. And then, six days later, on a Thursday you handed me the heart-shaped tin of chocolates over the sick baby I was changing. I promise to try not to dictate your kindness. It's sweet enough on its own.