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June 15, 2004 ~ River Rocks and Love Letters
Tuesday.
"Please come with me for a short walk in the backfield, with the fireflies?"
"But it's raining."
"Only drizzling!"
"Oh girly. I'm sorry. I'm really happy here inside and dry, with my book to read."
"Oh, but the fireflies..."
"Come here."
I stretched out next to him on the futon, and he put his book aside, and he held me for several minutes as we talked quietly and cuddled.
"Sure you won't come?"
"No. But say hello to the bunnies for me."
I sighed, disappointed, and headed out, stopping by the laundry room to switch the clothes to the drier. Before I did, though, there was something there, rattling against the metal. I pulled out three rocks, shining and sparkling.
The river in the mountains, Saturday afternoon. Hot day, cold mountain water rushing by, in a swimming suit for the first time in years, standing in the shallows with him, looking upstream of our numbed feet, water so clear. "It's like looking into a giant aquarium," he said, "an aquarium with nothing but rocks," and he giggled. We picked a few sparkly rocks, and he stuck them in a pocket of his shorts.
We swam a little in the deeper water, so cold, but sun dancing through the leaves overhead and his chest so warm, to curl into. Heartbeat over the sound of rushing water. Bliss.
I had forgotten about the rocks, until now. The memory warmed me, and I slipped them into my pocket, headed out the front door, but then ran back inside, yelling, "Morgan! It's not raining anymore! Will you still not come out?"
I couldn't stop grinning when he joined me. "Thank you. Thank you!"
We stepped outside, and I stopped. "This isn't quite right." He looked at me, confused, as I ran back to the porch. I pulled my shoes off. "Much better." Barefoot on wet grass, Carolina summer. Perfect.
We held hands as we walked down the backfield. "I want to write you a love letter," I said.
"You're silly."
"No really. I want to write you a love letter, telling you how thankful I am for all that you've done, and become, and been all along. How proud I am of you. How hard these last several years have been, but how we worked past it together, and how you worked so hard to put us where we are now, and I saw your work, and I am so thankful. How everything has come together. I want to almost write how much I love you (because I'll never get it wholly into words), and I want to make you blush. I want to write you a love letter, Morgan, to thank you."
He grew quiet with a smile, and we watched the fireflies, and we scared a rabbit, and we talked about how our future children would catch fireflies in a field. "But always let them go," I said.
And I felt the river rocks in my pocket, and I smiled and took his hand, and this is where I always am, smiling from his warmth, taking his hand, and maybe that's love letter enough, a life in love, this life in love that we've built together.
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