Home, Where My Love Lies
On Coming Home:
Someday, I will want to be old and married, to enjoy the long, slow happiness of knowing and being known. I will want to wake up next to my husband with the towels-fresh-from-the-dryer feeling of everlasting love.
Someday.
Yesterday was given over in its totality to the sharp, raw joy of reunited love. It ripped me to shreds as I twitched with impatience on the place. As the aircraft lumbered the final three hour leg to Managua, I steadily approached Completely Crackers.
I've wondered from time to time if I'm an idiot for marrying Eli. Did the cocaine addition-like chemicals of infatuation trick me into signing away half my life? He's so young and I live my impulsive life on the edge of disaster. Will we ever even get to comfy sweatshirt love or will I end up hurling plates at his head?
Good questions all. And the answer to both is: maybe, but I doubt it.
His smile when he first saw me - so sudden, so intense - it nearly broke the sliding glass doors of Augusto C. Sandino International Airport.
And my heart.
He kissed me like I've only ever seen in the movies. I swear I could nearly hear the soundtrack crescendo. My suitcases disappeared from my hands and I just hung on to him for dear life.
Really, in that moment, anyone at all could have stolen all my things and I would neither have noticed nor cared overly much. Fortunately the liberators of my luggage turned out to be family members. Then we hung around the airport until Mom arrived before heading off to dinner at an authentic, exotic, Nicaraguan restaurant.
Pizza hut. So, it turned out the authentic Nica experience, at least gastronomically speaking, would have to wait for another day.
How do I feel? You know the opening scene of Sound of Music where she cavorts about the meadow like an escaped mental patient and bursts into song? I feel like that, but sweatier.
Someday, I will want to be old and married, to enjoy the long, slow happiness of knowing and being known. I will want to wake up next to my husband with the towels-fresh-from-the-dryer feeling of everlasting love.
Someday.
Yesterday was given over in its totality to the sharp, raw joy of reunited love. It ripped me to shreds as I twitched with impatience on the place. As the aircraft lumbered the final three hour leg to Managua, I steadily approached Completely Crackers.
I've wondered from time to time if I'm an idiot for marrying Eli. Did the cocaine addition-like chemicals of infatuation trick me into signing away half my life? He's so young and I live my impulsive life on the edge of disaster. Will we ever even get to comfy sweatshirt love or will I end up hurling plates at his head?
Good questions all. And the answer to both is: maybe, but I doubt it.
His smile when he first saw me - so sudden, so intense - it nearly broke the sliding glass doors of Augusto C. Sandino International Airport.
And my heart.
He kissed me like I've only ever seen in the movies. I swear I could nearly hear the soundtrack crescendo. My suitcases disappeared from my hands and I just hung on to him for dear life.
Really, in that moment, anyone at all could have stolen all my things and I would neither have noticed nor cared overly much. Fortunately the liberators of my luggage turned out to be family members. Then we hung around the airport until Mom arrived before heading off to dinner at an authentic, exotic, Nicaraguan restaurant.
Pizza hut. So, it turned out the authentic Nica experience, at least gastronomically speaking, would have to wait for another day.
How do I feel? You know the opening scene of Sound of Music where she cavorts about the meadow like an escaped mental patient and bursts into song? I feel like that, but sweatier.
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3 comments:
i'm so glad that you are home. and that you are loved so enormously ...
Dude, you are an escaped mental patient, but we love you anyway, and are so glad that you are where you belong. :)
Great post. Love is great. For the reals.
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