I feel so without words at the moment. Each one slides out sluggishly, like chilled syrup out a tilted bottle.
I got up early to talk to my love this morning - his night - and we were both sleepy and I realized I hadn't said anything in a while and he said goodbye. I felt guilty for not talking better, for not paying enough attention. I still do, a little, but I know he forgives me. He's good at that. It's frustrating to try to communicate with him without touching; our relationship is tremendously tactile. Hands in hands, arms around, me scratching his beard (or scruff, depending on where he is in his shave cycle, which is irregular and intermittent) and him kicking like a puppy. Our mutual friends find it both hilarious and slightly nauseating from a sweetness overdose. It's been nearly six months together and I'm pretty sure we're still in the dizzy giddiness.
I don't know the name for what he smells like, but it's clean and simple and comforting, the way a creamy bar of new Dove soap is. He washes with whatever's handy, so it must be an intrinsic part of him rather than layered-on. He's skinny and lithe but strong, wiry as they say, and with big hands on the end of thin arms. I got us secret decoder rings made of stainless steel, because in many ways we're both children together, dancing in a field. When I told him about the rings on Facebook chat he typed out, "Ooooo...." Still waiting for them to come in the mail, and then for me to be able to go to him.
I introduced him to one of my best friends on campus, and she's become one of his best friends too, and we often eat or lie staring up at the clouds as a trio. I've been "adopted" by other couples in a similar fashion, especially my best friend in the world and her fiance, and I'm glad to be able to do this for her. After something I said to her once, this friend my love and I have taken into our non-jealous triangle - a platonic solid, as it were - calls us Team TARDIS. She's the Doctor and we're Amy and Rory (why, geekiness is one of our bonds, how could you tell?).
I miss both of them very much. I miss my best friend in the world too, but that's a lower-lying ache because of our separation from ages twelve to fourteen, so we have learned to live away from each other and still stay close in soul. Words were enough for Rumi and Shams, for he saw Shams everywhere he looked.
Ah, but I need to touch him. It would chase these clouds away sooner, rather than having to wait for the wind.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I keep saying it, and I'll say it again- you have the beautifulest (that's not a word, I know) way with metaphors. And with descriptions, and with romantic descriptions, and it's wonderful, the kind of thing that makes life have sunlight in it, and smiles, and thank you.
ReplyDeleteGood for platonic solids, even if the Doctor Who one seems to insist on last-second-aversion ship teases all the time (smile).
Wishing you words, and wind, and all else.
Thank you, and the same in return.
ReplyDeleteWell I said I didn't have time, but sometimes words MAKE time in your world, whether you want them to or not. :)
ReplyDeleteI'm always with you in spirit, though I know it's not quite the same as being able to sit side by side and giggle over something. The way you describe Ben here is beautiful--and spot on, though I can't vouch for having sniffed him too closely. ^.^ I know that kind of missing-loving-hurt, though I haven't felt it in long years now, and believe me, it makes the together-loving even more wonderful.
I'm touched that you mentioned me here, and that I've come to be so close to you and Ben. Couldn't ask for better companions on this crazy tumble through life. :) Come along, Faye...