I woke yesterday morning like it was Christmas.
My morning scripture study was like a blessing, with all the different texts overlapping into the words I needed to pour into my spirit this day.
It was a hot morning to play outside, muggy and steamy, but the clouds refusing to rain on my parade.
I got dressed for work then, as real life continues to be a thread in this unconventional tapestry, knowing that these hours I worked Nathan was driving to me from Kansas.
Kansas, at least, is next door, but still an eternity away.
And so he drives and drives and drives.
How very heroic, I thought.
Like The Odyssey, I thought, all we have been through before finding each other, and since.
We are pioneers, I thought.
I wriggled through office time and paperwork, danced through fields and sprinklers, talked through crises and transferences, and negotiated my way through cancellations and reschedules.
Every moment ticked by in slow motion, though I was grateful for the work to help slip through time.
I was never anxious, exactly, and I never got nervous. But I the excitement began to pump through me, no longer restrained, sometime around lunch. I did stop by the house on break to make sure I was ready, as if there was much I could do at that point. I tried to make sure I looked decent and smelled pretty, work day and all, but then later I took my car for an oil change – and that gave me an odd, mechanic smell without any earthy overtones left.
Oh, well. We are grownups, and fairy tales are harder at 35.
Except easier in some ways, because by then you are wise enough to know that already, so any leftover fairy tale juice is very real, beyond illusions.
That’s what got me dancing again.
The sun came out then, as if to celebrate with me.
But then, in the middle of my butterfly dance, the text message came.
The message that said he had arrived, was here, and was getting ready.
I think that’s when I stopped breathing.
My dance froze in the air, like a carved statue testifying of the entire journey of the last 35 years.
A million things raced through my mind, while simultaneously my spirit came to a halt, in a good and sacred way, the way time stops at the temple, and there was a complete peace, a depth to something I could almost remember, a stillness of the sort that only happens just before the morning sun breaks dawn.
Today is the day, I thought.
And so it was.
It was a summer solstice I will never forget.
I pulled into the parking lot at the park, very focused on being quite grown-up.
Excepting then I squealed when I saw him, and ran right to him.
He was waiting, watching for me from a long way off.
We ran to each other like the sap we had promised to avoid, and I very nearly cried my eye out.
It was amazing. Good. Perfect. Whole. Home.
Rays, dancing through the trees.
Dinner. Candles. Pineapple. Coconut. Shrimp. Fish. Steak. Potatoes. Rosemary. Sconces.
Fireflies like stars, stars like celestial faces.
It was perfect.