My love,

I dream of moments passed, of those seconds spent drifting off in thoughts of you. That solemn act of wondering as I wander, feeling the newness of hope mixed with the untolled memories of something familiar. Those seconds of dreaming what it would be like to hold you close, to listen to your stories, and hear the words spill from your heart like unending vestiges of excitement. Those words…

“I love you.”

Seconds pass by until they become minutes. Minutes somehow bring with them what once seemed impossible. I feel your arms wrap around me, hear your voice not through wires but through air, and those lips…my God those lips…revive me to a purpose the seconds had suggested were just a dream.

Then, the words.

“I love you.”

The minutes become hours. I watch the clock slowly make its way, teasing me in with deliberateness. I beg it faster in our moments apart, and try to make it slower in those moments when I can feel you. In those times when you are thousands of miles away, I want to find a rope binding East and West and pull it with all my might. Somehow, I just know, I will find the strength to eliminate all the distance between us. I will. I must. I cannot shed this truth from my soul despite the resistance minds will stack against it.

Then, patience. More than I ever thought I could find. I allow it to flow through me, and I settle into prayer that hours turn into days.

Days when we are together. Those days outnumber our days apart when the wires and batteries no longer matter. We find a rhythm in days that have no deadline, no return trip, no attempts to fit everything in. Days were we can walk patiently beside each other, or wait patiently in another space for an arrival not dependent on takeoffs and landings, on boarding passes and security checkpoints. Those days add to the story of our lives, building a book of love to be passed around and shared with a Universe that so eagerly conspired to see it written.

Days where we can climb mountains and take in the views together. Days where we can plant our feet on the Ocean’s sand and marvel at the Sunrise, together. Days were we can just find our space, walk our walks, dream our dreams either together or apart but have it be our choice and not a condition to which we were born.

Days will eventually turn into weeks and weeks into years. In time we will stand together older and look at the horizon. We will remind each other of the seconds we shared, of the minutes that have passed, and the hours that brought us to our space. We will remember our days knowing that we created something wonderful in their passing. We will read the volumes we have written together while basking in the glow of the children who’ve grown in the presence of our Light, and the friends who have perhaps found some peace of their own in the embrace we share.

Those years will eventually become our eternity, my love. In our rest we will have not squandered a moment blessed to us, knowing that love has brought us to a space where our wandering and wondering had transformed into amazement and our amazement into a story for the ages.

There is no doubt, for love has washed it away from me. Love has bound us a book and continued a story the moment our names entered our thoughts, and the second our lips began letting little bits of truth into the ether. The stars have never looked brighter, save when I see them with you.

With love, and the truest intention,

Your love.