Begin Again

Writing this was not easy. I had to put myself back in 2012. And how fast three years go by, and how much has changed.

Eight months after a devastating breakup, I met you.

Chance had smiled on me, and we bonded over a box of Costco kiwis.

I had muddled my way through the last year believing love was nothing if not breakable.

A steel clasped heart, I had set the key afire.

But then I found myself on a San Francisco bench with you, staring at the stillness of the water and the twinkle of lights that reflected from the Palace of Fine Arts, debating the merits of Barack Obama and Mitt Romney. (Or lack there of for Romney).

And I remember finding it so strange that I had encountered a man with the same passions as me.

Because two years ago, I was with a mismatched soul mate that made me stumble over the closing lines of my jokes – not because of cocoon hatched butterflies, but because of hidden insecurities.

We sat in a café, drinking coffees far too large for our faces, but fitting for our eyes.

You gave me the bigger half of that chocolate chip cookie, too.

Even in the beginning, you were a candy-cane-Christmas-morning kind of sweet.

You opened the passenger door of your car on our first date, in that tan and turquoise dress, you helped me into your Xterra, and I felt the electricity exchange between our fingertips.

It was golden. It was fire. Raw and real and reserved for the truest of loves.

I watched the dimples settle into your cheeks and the way your eyes closed when you were thinking deeply, and I stayed awake at night wondering if you noticed me as much as I noticed you. You are a presence that demands to be felt. I never understood just how much.

And then you are kissing me, and the universe is one, big blur. One massive void. And suddenly I’m falling. And then I just know.

You are the one I want to adventure through life with, the one that will bring extra quarters to that diner so I can play my favorite country song on that rainbow bright jukebox, the one that understands that I’m actually more talkative when I am shy. There was no covering up with you. I couldn’t shy away. I never wanted to back down.

You brought me back to life. Not out of convenience nor out of dependency, but you resuscitated a shadowed heart and awoke the marrow long dormant in my bones.

You were the beginning of the end of everything I ever knew to be true about love.

A rebel with a cause, you let me live with reckless abandon while knowing that my hearth and home could dwell not in a place, but in another.

I still feel the electricity. I know what kind of love flows through my veins, feeding my heart. I hear our song on the radio. And I dance. And I’ve stopped giving a damn if the only toes I step on belong to a ghost.

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