The sun moves quietly over the trees, as T studies hard for his CPA exam on the apartment floor and I sit on the couch in limbo. There are only thirty days until a name change, a life shake, groups of loved ones gathered in a ballroom to see us become one flesh, and the end of my single era.
I loved that time, but mostly in the few content months leading up to our meeting and engagement. I could travel whenever and wherever I wanted, make plans for as many new lives as possible, and dip in and out of socializing without letting anyone really see my heart. Those days are dwindling away quite nicely.
Ashamed of the rank anger in days when I mourned my hubby-less existence, I nonetheless appreciate the honesty that I had to confront. Why was I so convinced that this faceless man would make me a stronger, more beautiful, more graceful version 2.0? Couldn’t I find those things with Yahweh on our own terms? Why, yes and that’s what happened.
A few months before I met T, visions of peaceful co-existence with this world I’d been given surfaced. Life was calling to something sweet. Sweetness came in the form of an incredible friend, who wants to walk together into all of our sunsets.
“Bouquet” by Langston Hughes
Out of darkness
All the songs you know
And throw them at the sun
Before they melt