Sometimes "love" just doesn't seem to cover it all.

Who thought it was a smart idea to fit all of that emotion into one four-letter word?

Let's change the topic, shall we?

So what about you? Or should I not ask?

Oh you can ask all you want, I just don't know if I'll have an answer!

Oh, come on, no engagement or anything?

Ha, like I said, no answers!

You know your family's going to expect you to get engaged this winter, right?

What? No, no such expectation!

Oh come on, your sister got engaged at your cousin's wedding, now she's getting married - everyone's going to be looking at you! And you guys are awesome!

Ha, please, what about you? Your cousins are getting engaged one by one too!

So what about you guys? Isn't it time you guys got married or something?

Oh please, not you too!

Oh come on, your sister got engaged at my wedding, you think the family's going to let you off that easily?

Ha, let's talk about you guys having babies instead, shall we!

And so I brush them off. A joke, an evasion, a turn of topic. Always works. It's a tried and tested trick and the only way to respond to aunts who ask awkward questions, friends who want you to be happy and cousins who want to tease you.

But then I get a moment alone and I know that there's one person I need to answer if ever she asks that question. She'll see through my jokes. She'll latch on like a limpet. She'll turn the topic right back at me.

And I don't look in the mirror, because I'm not ready to answer yet.

Come to think of it...I'm not even ready to ask the question.

Happiness hit her like a train on a track, coming toward her, stuck, still, no turning back

Three months ago it was, “If I ever get married…”
Two months ago it was, “If we ever get married…”
A week ago it was, “When we get married…”
And then last night.
I was sleeping lightly. I felt a hand on my arm. I rolled over to face him.
“I love you. So much.”
“I love you, too,” I muttered, fighting for coherent words in my swimming, sleepy brain.
“I haven’t been this happy in a really long time.” I finally opened my eyes. “I want to marry you.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.”

I’ve waited almost seven years for this.
It feels like it was worth it.

Crazy windy

The moon is hiding behind the clouds. I see the rain in the half circle of light cast by the lamp post outside my window. The branches of the tree next to it swing to and fro, into the light then back again. Fighting with the raindrops then dropping into a coy lull.

A night for a juicy book or an intriguing film. A night for tea with honey. A night for a cozy blanket. A night for a nice little chat to warm the heart. A night to say I love you.

I had been waiting to talk with him for the entire day. Thinking 'oh I should remember to tell him about this!' and 'how funny, i'm sure he'll laugh at this' and 'I should ask him what he thinks of this.' Missing him, thinking about him, wanting to hear about his day. Wanting to hear his voice.

Okay, I guess let's talk tomorrow then?

What? But I...

What?

Well...I was telling you something.

Yea I need to make another phone call and then get to bed. Give me a call tomorrow.

O...kay...

What?

Well. You're cutting me off. I thought we were chatting.

...Oh...we can talk...

No, it's fine. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

I had spoken with his friend for fifteen minutes. I spoke with him for five.

And I know that he'd been out and I know it was late for him and I know he had a friend staying over and I know he wanted to make another call and I know he wanted to get to bed and I know was probably tired.

But now I'm just sitting here watching the crazy tree in the crazy half circle of light with the crazy raindrops lashing against it, trying to remind myself that I need to stop making another person the highlight of my day. Because having my mood mimic those branches and getting this upset about something this size is really just ruining my cozy rainy night. And nothing should have the power to do that.

Me and My Boyfriend

“Listen to me, we’re going to have to have a serious discussion tonight,” TC said. I grew hopeful. “Because you’re getting a little mouthy.”

“Ooooh, is that the discussion we’re going to have? I thought it was going to be a different discussion.”
“The commitment-boyfriend-girlfriend discussion?”
“That’s the one.”

We had just spent the day together; shopping for clothes for him, eating pizza, hugging at every red light. There was this feeling I got as I pushed through the throngs of people on Broadway and I’d feel his hand on my hips, as if to tell me that he was still there. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered as we fell asleep Saturday night. “Promise?”

“I don’t want things to change between us,” he warned. “If we do this… I really love the way things are going right now. I don’t want things to all of a sudden change. And I don’t want to do all the stupid Facebook stuff! I hate that. And if I don’t want to go have brunch with your parents at an outdoor restaurant, I’m still going to tell you that I don’t want to go.”
I grinned. “It’s one excuse after another with you.”
“This is who I am,” he answered more gently. “I’m just warning you.”

I ‘d been watching him and listening to him tell me for three months that he’s hazardous. He could hurt me. He could get hurt himself.

“I know,” I answered quietly. “I don’t need the Facebook stuff. In fact, I hate the Facebook stuff. When you break up they show a little broken heart that says ‘Lauren is now single.’ And when you meet my parents, it won’t be because I need their approval it’ll be because I talk about you a lot and they want to put a face with the name. It’ll be stress free and easy. Okay?” He stared at me hard.
“Okay.” He extended his hand. We shook on it. He walked into the kitchen to get us ice cream and it took me a full minute to realize I was smiling.

A love song on a Monday morning