Oh, I love him. I love him to pieces.
“The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.”
-Pablo Neruda
[Click photo to view a larger version.]
it’s just beautiful in central florida right now. as much as i miss norcal, i’m actually really glad i’m missing the pollen-infested allergy season. see this pretty flower? it wasn’t at all sneeze-inducing. at this time last year in california, both josiah and i sneezed non-stop for two months. here? nary a sneeze.
we’re taking advantage of this beautiful weather as much as we can. this afternoon, we went out for a walk in the sunshine.
out little neighborhood is simply lovely. we’re so blessed to live in a place like this. i just love all the palm trees! and i love that handsome man with all of my heart. (aveline’s eyelet floppy hat is from the children’s place; her dress is the sweet pinny from the pumpkin patch. it’s no longer available but you can view it here.)
and what’s a little walk without a detour for coffee? decaf, of course. aveline is enough caffeine for me. when it comes to keeping me up at night, she gives late-night shots of espresso a definite run for their money.
oh, i live such a blessed, beautiful life.
Some of you will recognize the following story — I penned it just months after 26PM and i were married in 2008, and published it on my old blog (Remember Xanga? That’s how we all rolled back in the day, ha ha!)
Anyway, I rediscovered these words again today, and realized that I never shared our love story on this blog.
So, here it is. The story of a love that spanned the distance between the Atlantic and Pacific. The story of two people who could not remain apart. The story of our lives.
once upon a time, he saw her. after church, playing football in the grass. she was barefoot. this is his first memory, but she did not notice.
she does not remember, except for the time he could not understand something she said and then she refused to speak.
[we were both sixteen. –yellowcard, ocean avenue]
well, seventeen, actually.
[they had lots of common friends. –dennison witmer, 24 turned 25]
the same church. the same ski slopes. the same junior college.
but they did not notice.
[you never even see me. you look right through me. –coldplay, shiver]
she remembers how he flew before he could drive, and how he drew color and life bursting from grey rubble. she told her mother he thought about things, deeply.
he did not know he was present in her mind.
she did not know she thought of him, even when she did.
Continue reading “POETRY & WORDS :: our love story: how long distance became i do”
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