"I wish I was homeward bound."

[judecorp]

We had several days of bliss and I want a lifetime of it, but that thought both thrills me and terrifies me. I know that what we experience is a little superficial because it consists of weekends and vacations, of get-aways and holidays. I long for the days where we have the opportunity and ability to experiment with the mundane, the day-to-day, and the long-term.

I long for them and they terrify me. I came home to a hornet's nest and for the love of everything good and holy and magical, I don't want that with you. Ever. Not even for an hour.

I felt so safe and secure and at peace for the past week, and even when we were struggling, I was confident and powerful and free. I think we have what it takes to really make something, and I look forward to it. I look forward to us, on a real, regular basis.

I want you to call me when you cry, and I want to be able to come running. I want to be stressed and cranky and have the solace of your immediate arms. I want to see your smile as often as you'll let me. I want us. And I want it up-front, personal, and in my face.

I am yours, and there is liberation in that. There is nothing for me here but loose ends, unfinished business, and due-date obligations. I will miss people, but I will hold them close to my heart. The rest, the life here, the life of the woman whose last name began with L... she is gone, and it is gone, and there isn't a single speck of anything that would make me want that.

I am not that person. I have never been that person. I left the person that I was in the spring of 1996, the person I was just coming to grips with finding. I took what I thought was the easy way out, and at the time it made sense. Now it just seems like wasted time, wasted effort, and strife.

I am free. I am free with myself and who I am, but I am also free with you. I am free in your arms and in your heart and in your life.

We had a taste of the future last week - Boston and little trips and car rides and soft singing and lazy mornings in bed and talk of plans. We had a taste of the future and we both want it so badly and that's why it was so difficult to leave yesterday. Was it only yesterday? It already seems like an eternity instead of 900 miles. You know something, Angel? I had a taste of our future and I'm excited and anxious and impatient for it. It looks and feels wonderful. And I want it now.

I want Us now. And later. Much later.

In my couple of hours of fitful, morning sleep, I dreamt we had a little girl, age 3. Her name, in my sleepy still-on-the-road mind, was Kyler. (We passed a Kylerville on the way somewhere in Pennsylvania.) She was beautiful. WE were beautiful.

I want these things, and that wanting scares me, so I temper it with practicality and reality. I need space to learn how to live alone again, how to be a one-woman-show again, and I am so thankful that you give that to me. You won't regret it.

I want you to have your own apartment, but I want a key to it. Balance.

This is good. We are good. I love you. Thank you for vacation.

Comments

[yarnaddict.livejournal.com]

You two are wonderful and inspiring and sappy and terriffic, and I hope the gods grant you a wealth of happiness and the strength and courage to stand together against the bad stuff.

[judecorp.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much.