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06 September 2015 @ 10:51 am
two shooting stars  
I wrote this email to my boyfriend last night.

I lived in the coop in Minneapolis for only about 18 months. For most of it, there was constant turnover, which was both a source of anxiety but also a phase that helped me learn to deal with transitions. But somewhere in there, for about 6 months, there was no turnover, and the folks who lived in the house lived together in what seemed an unprecedented harmony. I carry that time period forward with me, even though it is long past. It's like a little self-enclosed piece of juicy pulp in the orange of my heart. Every time I am with more than one of those people from that era, we resurrect that time unconsciously. We once more act like a bunch of 24-year-old siblings, or maybe cousins, who care about and understand each other in the easiest of ways.

Last night I got to spend time with two of them, David (and his girlfriend Hannah) were in town visiting Jason, because they're super close friends. I haven't remained in close contact with either of them, despite Jason now living in MKE, and David basically stealing my alternate future in St Paul (he lived in my old house AND has my old job...weird). Even though I haven't seen of them for over a year, it was the same as ever. This morning I woke up on Jason's floor, nestled into a pile of camping pads, inexplicably numerous purple fleece blankets, and one threadbare dinosaur blanket. David and Hannah were sleeping curled together on the futon, I glanced at them briefly and could tell how sweet they were with each other, and how well they knew each other and loved each other. It made me so very glad.

As I lay snuggling with myself on the floor I let my thoughts drift to other mornings and thought pleasantly of snuggling with you, and then let thoughts of you trickle into my consciousness. Some sexy, some sweet, some silly, some uncertain. I get really scared about the future, sometimes. Like, really scared. I don't know what to do with all the fear that seems very deep within me but is, at times, very close to the surface. I don't know what will happen in the future. But what I do know is that this morning, and for many mornings and days and nights previously, I have been very intensely glad that you are in my life. I feel really damn lucky. That feeling is in my heart, and isn't going anywhere. I'm carrying those moments, and this period of time, forward with me. That's a nice certainty to have.

I try my best to exist in a state of love, but still, every day, I'm incredulous by the amount of love just right here, ready to be encountered. Every day I am shocked to find myself in love.

I guess that's why I write you emails late at night, even when I'll see you soon. How else can I channel some of this world-love and (specific-person-love) than through words?

And also I think you'll understand, and that magnifies how great it is by like, 11 billion percent.

Aztalan State Park is lovely.

And now I sleeps.