Sometimes the words flow easy. A thought drifts causally across my mind and like a Polaroid, within moments I am able to compile my every thought and do so with drastic detail. I am able to showcase the exact way I am feeling at an exact moment. The way the sand felt on my sunburned feet that one perfect summer, the way the chill in the wind whipped through my hair bringing to attention the first glimpse of autumn. Sometimes I am able to capture a moment and a place and a feeling. Sometimes I can effortlessly be completely present in the moment. To laugh easily and cry with intention and dream without boundaries. Sometimes the days are so smooth they run into weeks and weeks into months and months into years. Sometimes the doors always seem to open and the path always seems to be one of little resistance. Sometimes there is always rainbows after rain and a silver lining and a friend to talk to. Sometimes it is easy. Sometimes it is hard. The words don’t come easy and it is as if I am a wily child again spending hours upon hours upon hours with a shiny net running across grassy yards trying to capture a butterfly, getting rather close but never quite having the ability or agility to fully capture the creature I so long for. Sometimes I cant focus or perfectly recall an outstanding moment. Sometimes the school work adds up, the bills become mountains, the long hours at work begin to take its toll. Sometimes I cant describe how I feel, or what I want, or who I want to be. Sometimes the loss of a loved one comes back with a force unknown by any creature except humans. Sometimes I lose my way and the doors always seem to close and the path always seems to have the most resistance. Sometimes I questions the goals I have set for myself and the ability I have to achieve them. Sometimes it just rains and there aren’t anymore good friends left. But always I pick myself up and try again. Always I take the blow and the rainbow-less rain and get right back up. Always I take the punch in the gut and the confusion that follows and dust off my fabulous clothes and stand tall again. Always I find an open window or an open crack if all the doors are closing. Always I refocus my intentions and refocus my life. Always I continue to chase that sneaky, cunning butterfly. Always I try again.
Well, its official- we live together. Technically we have lived together for about two months now but not until this morning did it become official. Want to know how I know? We are mid shampoo fight. Fight meaning rather that be apologized and I’m ignoring him. Yep the age old fight over household objects. When your fights switch from being about his questioning antics and curious past to not remembering to tell me we were out of shampoo mid shower. The classic shift most couples unknowingly slide through like a quiet avalanche when they venture to that “move in” phase. Where you don’t so much fight about what he did last Friday night (on account that you now know) but fall much closer to “why didn’t you tell me we were out of shampoo?” Don’t get me wrong living together has its perks. I have my partner in crime and best friend there to catch me when I fall both physically and metaphorically speaking and someone there to spend Sunday mornings in bed with and someone to help me carry my groceries. But today there was a change, a shift, a cross over into the next step in our relationship. And, to be quite honest I’m partially scared shitless and partially excited. We made it this far. Over three years together and a couple months of living together is much longer than most people get. Who knows what happens from here all I know is I’m ready to find out. Hopefully its still filled with love letters and flowers with the occasional ‘now tell me you didn’t forget the paper towels again did you?’