The more I dream about a future together, the farther away and more impossible it seems.

I want a garden. A creative room to call my own. Potted trees in corners and vining plants creeping across curtain rods from baskets suspended in macrame hangers. A kitchen island. Sitting on a stool with a beer while you curse at a motorcycle, your hands greasy with oil. Dinner on the deck at a table for two, strung up bulb lights twinkling above us. Reading at opposite ends of the couch. Waking tangled in your arms and legs and sheets every morning. Ocean walks and redwood hikes and motorcycle rides at impossible speeds. One whiskey too many and tethered to earth by your hand because you, you’ll always ground me at the same time you set me free to dream beyond anything I ever thought allowed.

I want big things. I want small things even more.

I want to come home from work, exhausted, to you. I want you slipping in to join the middle part of my shower. I want to wander the grocery store, hand in hand. I just want to be, together. No plans. No words. No need. Just together.

May I never forget how tired I am of words right now. May I never take for granted a single moment with you. Six months apart is more than enough for us.

Tonight you said, ‘I love you. Forever.’

I want all of life with you. I’m sure.

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