There's this boy I know. He's handsome and polite and Southern, and he has this smile... I'm pretty taken with him.
Some time ago, around this time of year, we stood facing one another, and suddenly we knew. It was one of those heart-in-your-throat, butterflies-in-the-stomach, sweaty-palms moments. I don't think a single intelligible word was uttered. Nothing has been the same since that day.
We actually knew one another for a while before we became "we." Admired each other from afar, you might say. But we were each closing the door on other relationships, tying up loose ends. And we were in the throes of redefining ourselves.
Let's just say that the romance has been as imperfect as the two individuals that came crashing together that summer. At times we are intertwined, connected in a profound way. At other times we are miles apart.
You see... I'm not easy. There's this neatly manicured wall. It appears solid, and I guard it fiercely. But if you peer between the cracks you find a real mess inside. The girl within the walls is broken and jumbled from one too many shakings. There may still be some good stuff in there among the shards and the dust, and the boy is brave enough to search for it when no one else will.
I wear a ring on my third finger. I wear it always, even when things are unpleasant between us. It is constant and precious, and it symbolizes forever, and that is how I like to think of us.
I haven't spent much time with the boy lately. There is work and clients and children and church. And walls. In my heart I know that things will settle, and we will have more time for one another. But he is a stubborn boy, and I lack the confidence to encourage him.
I'm not sure this boy reads my blog anymore, but if he does I want him to know that he is my last thought when the night closes around me and my first thought when the sun rises above the horizon.
Happy anniversary, my love.