Dearest J

Dearest,

getting off the plane in Raleigh was so nerve racking.  I didn't really know what to think or what I was doing.  But there you were.  Smiling.  And when I was in your arms, I felt as though I were shaking like a leaf and I thought that you could feel every ounce of nervousness I was holding inside of me.  I wanted to reach out and hold your hand as we walked to get my bags, and so I did.  You didn't resist.  And when you kissed me in the middle of the great hall, I didn't know what to think.  And when you kissed me in your car, I still didn't know what to think.  And when you stopped me cold on the street, held my face in your hands while studying every last inch of it before slowly dropping your lips to mine to kiss me, I stopped thinking. Do you know that every time you touch me, every time you kiss me, every time you hold my hand, I give a piece of myself to you?  I do.  The weekend was a great weekend in my opinion.  I don't know what you thought of it exactly, but I enjoyed it.

I laugh out loud right now at the thought of my favourite memories from this past weekend.  Do you want to know what they were?  I loved every moment that our feet touched.  Silly isn't it? I love the small gestures, the small movements that you do when you touch me.  When you gently lift my chin to kiss you, or sweep a stray hair away from my cheek, or caress the back of my hand with your thumb when you're holding my hand.  When you always make sure to open the car door for me, and kiss me before you close it again. Those are the things that make my heart skip a beat.  It isn't the big sweeping hugs or throwing me up in the air that are important to me.  It's when you let me put my cold feet against your legs, or hold my hand while we're in bed, or let me lay my cold body next to yours so I can warm up.  Those are the things that make me feel loved.

I love you.  I have always loved you. I have never stopped loving you.  Ever since you have come into my life, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.  The first time I laid eyes on you that cold January evening after all of those years, I knew that my life would never be the same.  That week was one of the most incredible weeks of my life.  Being with you again released all of those feelings that I had been withholding from myself, not allowing myself to feel.  I tried desperately to deny that I needed to feel those things, that I didn't need them to feel whole.  When you told me that if you had stayed longer, you would have fallen in love with me again, when you you told me that you have never forgotten about me, when you told me that nobody has measured up to me since our relationship, I cried.  I couldn't believe it. Really?  Could it have been possible?

Our last evening together in Raleigh, I let you have a part of me that I vowed to myself I would never give anyone.  I gave it to you because I knew it was what you wanted. I cried that morning in bed.  I cried because I knew I would give you anything you asked of me.  That scares me.  I want to be independent and self sufficient.  I don't want to depend on others.  But I lean on you for things that I shouldn't.  I need to pull away before this shatters me like it once did.  I need to pull away and put it all behind me.  It is getting harder and harder to detach myself from you.

Dearest, we skirt the issue.  We never talk about what is going on between us.  We share moments where I would stake my life on the way you love me, but you turn as cold as you once were as passionate.  Is it because you are as afraid as I am that one day you will be called and you may never come back?  I am so desperately afraid of that, but I am not afraid to love you, if you would let me.

So tell me.  What do you want?  Am I to think of a future, or am I to think that each moment is just a star in the sky, alone, shining, but not connected to anything else?  A brilliant point in time.  Raleigh was lovely as I knew it would be.  It had been too long, and we had been apart for longer than I wanted.

I am torn between running without turning back and being tortured by the anticipation of feeling you in my arms again.

k