No Surprises

Can't sleep, so ... I write. Everyone should be so blessed, I suppose.

Traveling always disrupts me, so I'm not surprised I can't slough off this wakefulness, but I've not been sleeping lately anyway, thinking, dreaming of you, so I'm doubly not surprised. Completely and throughly lacking in surprise. I'm also elated, and, as has been the case on a number of occasions these past couple of weeks, incredibly sad simultaneously. Which, since it has been happening so much lately, should probably also not be surprising in the least.

Here's another thing that's not surprising for a number of reasons: I have to leave for a while, and will be largely unable to communicate with you. You know this, I know, and it's been planned for some time, and it's my job, so it makes sense, I know, but it's also frustrating and upsetting to us both, if not surprising. You're probably right in that I may feel the absence less, having so much, as yet unknown, work to do, but I will feel it. I have a feeling my days will feel quite empty and there will be a black, throbbing hurt where I would usually feel your closeness through the IM or over the phone. I will miss sharing my day, although I know I will share all of them with you when I return. Still, as far apart as we've been (physically), I can't think of a single day that I didn't spend more than half of talking with you. I know I'll be a busy bee while I'm gone, but I can't possibly be busy enough to not miss that, or you, my love, who has come to mean so much to me in such a short time.

And then there's the good part, to counter the bad, since we apparently must always have that. (Remind me to explain why this reminds me of the vows I heard today, if I need to.) I'm finally going to see you again. I can't describe my joy other than to say that I'll show you how happy this makes me when I see you, but I know that even what I can express by holding you, comforting you, loving you and spending every second of every day I have you studying you can't capture the acute joy I felt in my heart when you told me you would be here after I got home. Lute Boy says he's longed for this day since we first started talking, and I agree with him. I can't think of anything I've ever wanted more than to see you again, and hold you in my arms and love you.

Isn't it funny how, when our minds were first full of dreams of seeing each other, all we could think of was the physical loving, the sex and the various ways we'd surprise and please one another. I still think of this (thinking about it right now, in fact) and still plan on acting out many of those fantasies, but lately as we've talked about The Day, our thoughts have turned to the comforting, almost chaste thoughts of long hugs, endless eye gazing and the watching of that one show while eating that certain take out. It's almost as if we've acted out an entire love affair already, and are now, in our minds, at that quiet, open, trusting, gentle loving stage in which two people, having endured the fires of their once separate, raging passions, have been fused into one. Perhaps not yet one flesh, but in so many ways of one mind. How you can doubt what will happen when we finally unwrap that gift is beyond me. We already know what's inside; better, perhaps, than anyone ever has.

So it's with both a heavy and light heart that I leave you, if you'll allow me to get all Ken Burnsish on you here, my darling (oh, my darling). I'm confident that when I return and you arrive there will be plenty of new and exciting aspects of our love to explore, but having come this fair with you, having discovered so many common interests, feelings, thoughts, dreams, hopes and feelings, I'm confident that we'll find ourselves reveling, once again, in our complete lack of surprise. Unless, of course, you expect me not to love you, exactly as you are, with all of my heart, until the earth accepts you as dust. Because that's exactly what I intend to do.