Chapter 35: 7.9.22

so this is loveWords: 3353

the american dream

time and time again,

i lay in bed,

under all the sheets,

and i find relatability.

i see you and i in the art...

when two lovers

are torn apart,

ripped from each other's grip,

yanked at the ankle,

then seemingly dragged away...

having to part and

wishing one another

a sweet and dear farewell,

fighting to hold back tears...

absolutely faced with removal;

when one is picked by

the very hand of God

to be journeying elsewhere...

and the hollowness of knowing

something that was once there

is no longer...

i understand fully.

because in some way,

some slight, miniscule way,

that is us.

every six months

we exist: happy and whole.

then we are pried apart.

separated, severed, uncoupled!

unlike the books and movies,

our situation is of its own.

and i mean that.

as mundane and "normal"

as this sometimes is,

nothing about this is:

quote unquote...normal.

i have fallen

deeply in love

with a man

who is not my own.

across country lines and

through the countless cities

dividing what i know

from what you know,

i have fallen for a man

whom i see

every six months.

because that is

how it has to be.

now i know:

some individuals have it worse.

but i argue: this is my worse.

our worse.

because things can improve.

things can become ideal.

day by day,

the two of us know

we are striving towards this reality.

i will tell you again:

we are going to live a dream.

i swear.

some day in july,

very very soon,

we will be laying out

on a knitted blanket,

watching some kids light fireworks.

we will watch them explode

and witness the sky turn all sorts of colors.

like paint being splattered on a canvas.

we will be quite entertained.

but i will look over

and smile in admiration, with comfort.

after all these years missed,

we will be sharing a day

of celebration and pride together.

one holiday shared,

with plenty more to go.

then i will kiss your cheek

and ask if we should leave.

with that look in your eyes,

i will know what sort of night

you have planned for us.

so at some odd hour,

we will get to our home,

make love like the night before.

then after all the excitement,

we would lay our heads to rest

and i would say:

"look how far we have come."

you're not a little boy anymore.

and i am a woman now.

look at us

being all grown,

sharing a bed and blanket,

paying bills;

not having a care

for the world outside the four walls

we call home.

look at us!

we would close our eyes,

and maybe a few tears

would fall, because...

you know how i am.

so you would say:

"i know baby.

we have come far,

but we have so much

more ways to go."

and that.

that is what we say now.

and it will be what we say

in five years.

in ten years.

in twenty even!

i will be holding your hand

as we begin to perish,

and you know i would say:

"look how far we made it now.

we have nearly reached the end."

but i know you would respond:

"yes, but

we can still go a little more ways."

from two years ago

to today,

until tomorrow...

this is our thing.

i will forever

remind us

of how far we have come.

because i love us so much.

from strangers to possibilities,

then companions to lovers.

and now

my "one" to your "one".

so much progress.

so many stages.

we should be proud.

and i know we are.

because you tell me

what i have told you:

"look,

look how far we have made it."

we don't say it often,

but when we do,

we mean it.

it's like saying

"i love you"

in another way.