Joy

It is as though I have waited my whole adult life for this.  Any dissatisfaction was ultimately because I knew I could do better, I knew something was missing.

I tell him, in my corny stupid way, I don’t know where to put all this, I have no container for the way I feel on the inside, its like a million stars exploding inside me and there is no place to put it all.

He just smiles, that one where his lips are in place, but the muscles on his face are dimpled.  I love that smile best of all.

And I don’t, the ex husband, the ex boyfriend.  The years and years of wishing someone would be beside me, would appreciate me, would not care about my quirks and odd places, would not tear me down.  We work together, tearing out old screens and putting in new ones, he does not stop until they are all done, though I tired after only two.  I want that room to be done for you, he says.  And after dinner when we are both tired, he says, lets go outside and put those plants in.  He stands beside me, digging holes while I place the plants in the ground, puling a hose from the garage so I can water them.  Thanks I tell him.  And there it is that smile that I love.

And since he has put a stunning emerald cut amethyst on my finger set in white gold, his kisses seem more tender, as th.ough now that he has me, he will treat me with even greater care and tenderness and respect.  After a long weekend of togetherness, I ask him if he needs his space.  He puts the pillow on his lap and says, put your head here and read like you always do.  I have all the alone time I need, and I want to be with you as much as I can be.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

How many many years have I wished for such a thing, a person who loves my company?

And who honors me?

And who thinks I am okay, just exactly as I am?

And who is willing to change anything just to be with me?  Though all I ask for is a tidy house, that four bachelors have struggled to maintain.  Its okay he says, I am tired of living in a filthy house, though it is not so much filth as it is just not being organized and having a place for everything.

I know this because I have watched him clean many times.

And best of all, when I make a mess, he does not shame me.

And when some paperwork turns up missing, and I am breathing hard, my heart racing, I am so sorry I say, I must have thrown it away, when I put the papers in the recycle bin, we have just returned from the dump.  He remains calm and after a minute finds it.

Thank you I say.  tearful.  For what?  For not yelling at me.  Why would I?

Why would you?

Indeed.

This is joy.

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