Good Morning, Love…
I’m thinking about you while I sit at the kitchen table eating my gummy vitamins, drinking Emergen-C from my “That Shit You Wrote Is Beautiful” mug, and listening to Ryne singing about his love being on her way. Btws, she got to him. I just saw on Instagram he got engaged the other day. My heart did a little dance. His eyes are lit with so much joy. The boy has become the good man I knew he would be.
Micah says if I stop thinking about you so much, you’ll probably show up. But on cold, dreary mornings like this one I just can’t help it. Especially when I wake up to notifications like the one from Bumble which announces I have matched with another Mike. That makes five in a row this week. Five. I laughed so hard I cried. Five Mike’s and they all look so similar they could be brothers. Or clones. I wonder if you would find this funny…if you are finding this funny.
The Ginger told me about this quantum experiment some scientists did where two people a far distance apart meditated upon one another and felt what the other was feeling. Their brain patterns were similar to one another. And I wonder if this morning you are feeling me, if you are thinking of me and missing my heart this same way too.
I can’t help but imagine the quantum bits of us reaching out across space time to hold hands while the other parts of us go about our daily lives.
For a long time I’ve thought that I would know my Great Love on sight. I’ve always said it this way, “I say this thing about Italy. “I think she is a part of me I will remember the first time I visit.” And when I hear your voice, I think maybe it will be true of you. Maybe you are the part of me I will remember the moment our eyes first hold. Maybe when your fingertips first brush mine, I will know, “yes, I recall, this is my hand. It has always been so.” Maybe your heart will beat as loud as mine does now and as I hear it’s rhythm, I will smile. “I know this song, it plays within me. Every single day.” Maybe between your words and the sound of your laughter the stars will whisper it to me.”
Early this morning I realized, I’ve begun to search for your face. Over coffee and truffle fries and lemon meringue pie and in right swipes, I search smiles and eyes for a hint of you. The truth is, I’m not actually sure that’s how it will work for me. I know that’s how it happened for Mom and Dad. Since I can remember, I’ve made her tell me the story over and over again. She was sixteen, saw him out a window, and told the person standing next to her, “I’m going to marry him.” She saw Great Love and claimed it for her own. I always thought that was exactly how my story would go.
But I’m thirty-three, not sixteen.
I have scratched and clawed and fought to survive and thrive in the almost eighteen years since I was the age when she stood face to face with hers for the first time.
It would be naive to think I could see your face and believe you were him. It would be a bit ridiculous to believe I could lace my fingers with yours one time and never want to let go. It would be absurd to hear your voice once and know the sound of it will bring me peace for the rest of my days.
Maybe for me it will be about the unfolding. Maybe Great Love will be about showing up. Maybe there will be a proving.
I’d love to bring the tiny dark curled child I once was who fell in love with love to this table and tell you it wasn’t true. But my reality is the woman sitting here in this grey sunlight and she has seen a million battles. I told the truth in a text message last night, “The woman who loves love stories is terrified of love.” I’m becoming less so, but I’m not naive anymore. I know love isn’t just a story. It takes a lot more than pretty words and ideas to win my heart.
Your soul was created to fit into the grooves of mine. I have no doubt you’re up to the task, but I have a few questions for you this morning as I sit here with Ryne’s voice playing on repeat assuring me that you are on your way. Hold my heart across time and space and hear them.
When I trip, will you catch me? I know this sounds cliche and theoretical but this is an actual physical question.
I’m quite clumsy. This past week I was on a date and I tripped down a flight of stairs and into a mahogany and chandeliered room full of hip artist type humans. I also managed in another moment a few days later to walk out a door and slam directly into a wall. Face first. Will you catch me before I hit the ground?
Will you let my soul run wild and yet call me out deeper? Will you challenge me with your words and actions to grow and become? Will your character make me want to grow in my own character? Will your deep goodness urge a sense of selflessness in me? Will you be proud of me and never be ashamed of who I am no matter how loud or obnoxious or crazy I get? Will you never shush me and always delight in me? Will you want your friends and family and entire world to know who I am? Will you never hide me but always proclaim me? Will you cry with me and laugh with me and get angry with me but also sometimes tell me I need to calm the hell down?
Will you be him whom my soul loves? And will your soul love me?
Good Morning, Love. Today my heart is missing you. Can you feel it? Me too. Me too.