I haven’t written much here in awhile. When you read through, please forgive me. Don’t think the months that stretched to these gaps were meaningless, unimportant. Every day with you is life-changing.
We’ve been wrestling through my worries and fears, your steadfastness anchoring us firmly at my most volatile and exhausting and afraid.
We’ve had weekends together, blurs of time where I start to understand what our future might be. Where I see what will be easy and what will be hard (getting out of bed at a reasonable hour, staying consistent with exercise, taking the time for our separate activities when we want to spend every moment together).
We’ve had long phone calls. We’ve had days where we didn’t talk. You’ve driven ten miles out of your way to find wifi to text that you’re safe and you love me. I’ve [drunkenly] cried in your lap for how much I’ll miss you when you’re gone. We’ve cooked and baked and watched shows that make my heart feel whole.
We’ve forgiven each other, often. Always.
I didn’t stop writing because it stopped being beautiful or meaningful or the swelling of my whole universe. There’s just been a lot. I’ve been excited, so afraid, exhausted. It’s been too much for one girl to put into words. Today, in the conversation that constitutes my most recent entry, I understood maybe I haven’t been able to put the words together lately because this isn’t a one-sided story. This isn’t a place for a single narrator.
We are writing this story together.
Die Young — Sylvan Esso