turn up the lights in here baby
Sometimes he takes my breath away. We're watching Arrested Development in our living room, and he's curled up on the couch with his head on my thigh and one hand in front of his head on my knee. Everything about him is so beautiful I almost ache to see him, the way his hair wants to curl, his profile, the shape of his wrist. The shadows his eyelashes cast on his cheeks, the curve of his lips, the angles of his fingers curled lightly into a fist. His skin is so soft I've spent hours just stroking his back (it's not a euphemism, okay, I really mean "back").
We went furniture shopping today to replace the dining room set Rob had brought in with him and finally yesterday took away. Then we made stuffed mushrooms for Thanksgiving lunch tomorrow, and then he decided to be cuddly while I'm finishing up today's NaNo portion. And he's just so perfect, the charmed space of time when we can just be together and relax, be easy, not be torn between all the various things we both (well, mostly I) have to do - it's amazing. It makes my mind quiet - with him, I can relax. I can rest.
Last night we talked a lot about how utterly fucked politics in this country are and police brutality and protesters and people's general selfishness and stupidity. We talked about how to change things, whether or not it's even possible at this point to change anything or if a rocket to Mars is really our best bet (it probably is). I could recap all of that, but I won't. It was one of the discussions I love having with him, where I realize again how passionate he is about the wider world, not only what's happening to him or to people he knows. That's a side of him that isn't always (or even usually) on display; he cares so much, too much to fully express it all the time or he'd have a nervous breakdown or be completely unable to function. This quiet, gentle side of him isn't always on display, either. He's beyond supportive of and helpful toward his friends, but that's different than the kind of relaxation he eases into when there's no one here but me. My treasure, so beautiful.
Home is wherever I'm with you.
We went furniture shopping today to replace the dining room set Rob had brought in with him and finally yesterday took away. Then we made stuffed mushrooms for Thanksgiving lunch tomorrow, and then he decided to be cuddly while I'm finishing up today's NaNo portion. And he's just so perfect, the charmed space of time when we can just be together and relax, be easy, not be torn between all the various things we both (well, mostly I) have to do - it's amazing. It makes my mind quiet - with him, I can relax. I can rest.
Last night we talked a lot about how utterly fucked politics in this country are and police brutality and protesters and people's general selfishness and stupidity. We talked about how to change things, whether or not it's even possible at this point to change anything or if a rocket to Mars is really our best bet (it probably is). I could recap all of that, but I won't. It was one of the discussions I love having with him, where I realize again how passionate he is about the wider world, not only what's happening to him or to people he knows. That's a side of him that isn't always (or even usually) on display; he cares so much, too much to fully express it all the time or he'd have a nervous breakdown or be completely unable to function. This quiet, gentle side of him isn't always on display, either. He's beyond supportive of and helpful toward his friends, but that's different than the kind of relaxation he eases into when there's no one here but me. My treasure, so beautiful.
Home is wherever I'm with you.