I'm Not a Smart Man, but I Do Know What Love Is . . .

I rode my bike home today. I carried it upstairs to my empty apartment. Well, yea, I’ve got a couch, TV, and other stuff there, but after a week of almost constant laughter and affection, empty somehow seems an appropriate description.

All that prevents sadness from seeping in is the knowledge that this might be the beginning of an experience, the likes of which I’ve never known. And, while hearing your voice on the phone never fails to bring a smile, certain qualities, such as the smell of your skin, the way(s) you tilt your head while talking or listening, and your Yankee Forest Gump impression convey so much more than any word or group of words ever could. Your laughter is honest, and your heart I feel to be true.

Distance is never an ally in such matters; however, with frequent encounters as the one just finished, I feel we’ve reason to be optimistic.