The room is quiet except for the running window unit. Only one light is on in the house aside from the screen. It's a Friday night. And I'm here, at home, alone, not including Chloe the cat, in the silence.
And there is but one thing on my mind, Ryan.
He's out with a buddy of his, probably reminiscing about one of the billion memories they have together. Something hilarious, I'm sure of it. Ryan's probably lighting up the room with his smile and filling the quiet moments with his sense of humor.
I could be out. I could be spending money I don't have on something I don't need. But with the anxiousness that comes with the first week at a new job, all I am drawn to do is stay in. Mellow out. Relax and unwind. And reflect; on my new job, on my life, and on our future.
If I knew that he would be here waiting for me, I would've come back to Oklahoma sooner. Had I known that his hands would've sewn up my broken heart, years ago, I wouldn't have given it a second thought. And now that I'm here, and he is here, there isn't another place I'd rather be.
We met in a craft store. He helped me pick out mini wooden plaques to draw on. He was wearing an apron and sneakers for skateboarding. I could tell. He pulled down boxes from the top shelf to help me find only the plaques that had the darkest knots on them. They had the most character, we both agreed.
That's when we fell in love.
A year later and I got a job at a craft company, too. Local competitors, our families would joke, still do. We made magnets out of mini plastic fruit together and planned our lives to include our passion for creating things. We went on wine-filled bike rides around the lake and held hands as the wind tried to blow me and my two wheels away. Living together and building our lives out of old-fashioned, sweep you off your feet, one look and your crying, romance. I don't just want to grow old with him. I never want to let go of him. If I could telecommute from our couch with my right hand working the keyboard and my left hand holding his, I'd be set.
Two years later and we're even more in the clouds. I've always heard that after two years, you start running out of things to say. After a while, his jokes won't be funny. Whoever said that never met Ryan. Never met us.
I'm just overwhelmed with love. Loving my job, loving our home, loving our life together. With all of the complaining in the world, and the worries and frets, isn't it about time for a little love and happiness? Don't we all deserve it?
I hope you find your Ryan and your wine-filled bike ride.
I know I'm never letting go of mine.