a year ago today...
...my love laid eyes on this post of mine that struck a cord. He also noticed the previous post, the results of my third and last blog poll. Months were going to pass until another post struck another cord strong enough for him to write his first e-mail. From that point, months were going to pass until we spent nights chatting about our ideal lives. And then more months were going to pass until we met and made successful the conspiracy of our hearts against our minds. In the end, even more months would pass until he remembered the precise moment it all started.
Today is our first unofficial anniversary, the day we came together first, in thought, without one knowing about the other. Though grief for oneself connected us, I couldn't be happier. Oh, yes, I could, if there was a way to clone this special avid reader without sharing him at the same time. However, that would work if I cloned myself, too, in a matching number. An army of me writing for an army of him.
The change a year brought in our lives besides the obvious, blissful shower of love? We no longer e-mail and chat at 3 am on a daily basis, with many thanks from ourselves, our families, and our friends. We managed to get out of that system where life comes second and Sunday evening creeps upon souls that do not shield the sadness of having postponed themselves for yet another week. I will--no--we will drink to that.
Today is our first unofficial anniversary, the day we came together first, in thought, without one knowing about the other. Though grief for oneself connected us, I couldn't be happier. Oh, yes, I could, if there was a way to clone this special avid reader without sharing him at the same time. However, that would work if I cloned myself, too, in a matching number. An army of me writing for an army of him.
The change a year brought in our lives besides the obvious, blissful shower of love? We no longer e-mail and chat at 3 am on a daily basis, with many thanks from ourselves, our families, and our friends. We managed to get out of that system where life comes second and Sunday evening creeps upon souls that do not shield the sadness of having postponed themselves for yet another week. I will--no--we will drink to that.
Labels: methinks


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