Simmering

Last night at 10pm found me content in the kitchen, throwing together a recipe I thought Love would like. By 10:20 I couldn't keep my eyes off the clock. By 10:30 my fickle anxiety vacillated between images of Love dead in a ditch, to picturing her at a coffee house spending time with someone who doesn't live three hours away most of the year, unlike me, why the hell isn't she home with me and why the hell am I home cooking for someone who can't be bothered to be with me on the few days I'm home? By 10:40 I remembered that this woman has truly earned (the hard way, over and over again), the benefit of the doubt, and so I resolved not to sound like Insane Girlfriend, even if I was stuck with her in the kitchen (because surely, this isn't the real me): I would wait until 10:45 to call her and make sure she was okay.

At 10:44 she called, and said, "I'm just calling to let you know that I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere and I'm not taking you for granted. They closed down one lane of traffic on 376 and also closed our exit. I'll be home as soon as I can find an open road."

At 11pm she walked in the door and handed me a card that ended, "You are so foreign to me in so many ways, but you are the stranger I know best and the only one I want to know completely."

I am so grateful.