You’ve been sureness, certainty, determination from months and months before I gave it a passing thought, from weeks before we hugged on a quiet block next to Golden Gate Park, from the very beginning.
Your first memories of me are my voice, my smile, that I was cute, that I had a boyfriend, you say.
You deleted dating apps when we started really talking.
When I said I was coming to town in a couple months, you promised yourself you’d spend as much time with me as possible.
The first night I stayed over, you asked me to move in — and for some reason, it didn’t sound crazy, and I knew you meant it, even as you laughed about it.
You want to spend your life with me, you say.
‘I can promise you that the way I feel about you is not changing. Other than to say that I feel it more,’ you say. ‘I am more sure of us than I have been of anything at any point in my life.’
You tell me you’ve always been ten steps ahead of me in this relationship, but it’s okay. You’ll wait for me.
I know this to be true.
In this, in life, in so much, you’re so far ahead of me, but I never feel rushed at all. You’re complete patience, a gentle but persistent hand, walking alongside, encouraging forward, promising it’s safe, okay, the water’s fine.
With you, I will go anywhere, be anything. Better, more, greater. Together, we become so much.
I Don’t Mind — The Head and The Heart