Joe and I have been having an epic conversation for the last couple weeks. It's probably one the most refreshingly honest and open discussions we've ever had. Sometimes it takes place face to face, and other times via text messaging or phone call. The conversation gets put on hold when one of us fades into sleep or has some task to complete, but quickly resumes.
I haven't had time to read or write or putz, but that's okay. I've discovered something really important.
I like Joe a whole lot. I like how he thinks and the genuine interest he has in helping people. I like what he dreams for our future and what he hopes for our sons. I like what he thinks is funny and the stories he likes to tell. I like that we have such different strengths and we balance each other. I like that we exist with one another in this moment, leaving the past and future where they belong.
I recognize my need for lots of friends - women who will listen to my woman things. I've had so much drama and trauma in the last two years and refused to burden any one girlfriend with all of it. It was overwhelming for me; why would any one person want to hear all I had to say over and over again until I healed?
I don't need to talk about those dramas and traumas anymore. In fact, the thought of having to retell any of those stories is fairly repugnant.
With Joe I don't have to retell. He was there with me during the entire journey. I find it terrifically beautiful that he knows me so intimately and has witnessed my best and worst moments, and professes a greater love for me every day.
In the days before our wedding, I found myself afraid that I would run out of words with Joe. I once asked my mother-in-law-to-be what her and my father-in-law could possibly have to discuss with each other after all their years together. "Hmmm," she responded, "when you share so many life events and children and family, there's always business at hand. And then, as the years pass, there's more than just words; there's a silent connection that fills in all the quiet moments. You don't always need to have words."
Of course, I've never been at a loss for words. Still, thank God for Joe and for this epic conversation that might last the rest of our lives if we're careful.
I haven't had time to read or write or putz, but that's okay. I've discovered something really important.
I like Joe a whole lot. I like how he thinks and the genuine interest he has in helping people. I like what he dreams for our future and what he hopes for our sons. I like what he thinks is funny and the stories he likes to tell. I like that we have such different strengths and we balance each other. I like that we exist with one another in this moment, leaving the past and future where they belong.
I recognize my need for lots of friends - women who will listen to my woman things. I've had so much drama and trauma in the last two years and refused to burden any one girlfriend with all of it. It was overwhelming for me; why would any one person want to hear all I had to say over and over again until I healed?
I don't need to talk about those dramas and traumas anymore. In fact, the thought of having to retell any of those stories is fairly repugnant.
With Joe I don't have to retell. He was there with me during the entire journey. I find it terrifically beautiful that he knows me so intimately and has witnessed my best and worst moments, and professes a greater love for me every day.
In the days before our wedding, I found myself afraid that I would run out of words with Joe. I once asked my mother-in-law-to-be what her and my father-in-law could possibly have to discuss with each other after all their years together. "Hmmm," she responded, "when you share so many life events and children and family, there's always business at hand. And then, as the years pass, there's more than just words; there's a silent connection that fills in all the quiet moments. You don't always need to have words."
Of course, I've never been at a loss for words. Still, thank God for Joe and for this epic conversation that might last the rest of our lives if we're careful.
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