Wednesday, November 07, 2012

dead hearts.


dead hearts: The Wedding of Victoria and Jason Evigan from Lightfield Lewis on Vimeo.
It’s an intensely palpable love like this that strips me bare of my broken-hearted cynicism, reveals the very real + hopeful, hopeless romantic that occupies my core + restores my withering faith in fate. Perhaps, true love really does exist + maybe one day the stars will align + I will be lucky enough to find a love that makes storybooks jealous, too. 

Is it possible to miss someone you have never met? I have been thinking about him a lot recently. How his smile will light up his face. What his passions will be. What his laugh will sound like. What stories have shaped him into the man he is... + what he imagines the future to look like. 

Will he like to read? Will he share the same wanderlust that I do? I get lost in daydreams thinking about how safe I will feel in his arms. How he’ll know just the way I like my coffee {3 splendas, half hazelnut cream} + know exactly what to say just before I begin to cry. How he’ll find humor in my tornado-like tendencies + support my wildest dreams... especially the one about bathing with elephants in Bali.

He’ll understand my need to be alone some days + appreciate my need to feel wanted, every day. He'll believe me when I tell him I don't like store-bought gifts, only thoughtful ones of the conversation-hearts-glued-to-red-construction-paper variety. 

He’ll love me + my un-domestication unconditionally, even if I never successfully learn to use the oven for anything other than sweater storage or adequately adopt the word “frugal” in to my vocabulary. He’ll counteract my inability to sit still + help me stay content in the present. He’ll forgive me when I forget to communicate rationally + love me deeper on my darkest days. He’ll give the best forehead kisses ever known + never judge me for my love of raw cookie dough. 

He’ll share the same love for small things {especially changing seasons + babies} that I have + find just as much magic in creating traditions that I do. He will dedicate his life to making me happy, knowing I am living each day doing just the same… loving him whole-heartedly, wondering how I got to be so lucky to be his wife. 

I know when we finally do meet I'll understand why we had not met any sooner for I am still finding my feet... so until the day that the meet-cute arrives + our eyes will lock across a crowded room, our hearts immediately intertwined, I will carry on living each day to the fullest while I wait... patiently + passionately. hopelessly + wrecklessly. 

"How will I know?" he'll ask.

Oh, that's easy...I’ll be the girl smiling coyly in the corner, with lights inside my eyes.

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