Hello Love of My Life,
Let’s talk about clouds for a minute.
Yes, I see your eyes rolling as they do every time I bring up the subject, but that’s OK. I’ll work with it.
Your eyes rolling reminds me of how the clouds roll across the sky. (See my clever connection.) More importantly, see the clouds. See their shapes and colors. Look at that one stretched out like a cotton ball in Jack’s sticky hands, and the one over there crumpled up like a discouraging first draft. If you watch them, if you would just look at them for a moment, you would see the different levels of atmosphere. They blow across the sky at varying speeds and in slightly different directions. Each cloud catches its own current and if you would just look, you would have a sense of what we cannot see: the multitude of levels of invisible wind that barricade us from space.
Space.
Yes, that got your attention, didn’t it? You love space and gaze at it every chance you get. You stay up late almost every night waiting for the deep darkness to settle in so you can go outside with your fancy binoculars and look at stars, planets, or the moon. You keep track of the International Space Center on your smart phone and watch it plow across the night sky at such an unusual angle. It is amazing. I’ve watched it with you once or twice.
Today is our seventh anniversary and how I wish I could afford to give you what you desire and deserve: a proper telescope. Even though I know the Milky Way would be a tempting mistress who would pull you from our bed most nights, and make you curse my beloved clouds on other nights, would if I could, I would buy one for you in a heartbeat, my love.
Seven years. Have you caught that infamous itch yet?
Other than mosquito bites, I’m fine. The time that passed seems unreal. It will be a whole decade of knowing each other come July. Honestly, it feels like more. We’ve been together long enough to know each other’s quirks inside and out, but still a part of us remains a mystery to me. There’s that always funny puzzle of how we can be so different and alike at the same time.
It dawned on me, while looking at those lavender clouds in front of the orange sunset the other day, you know, the ones you poked fun at and refused to look at until we crossed a bridge and you couldn’t help but be blindsided by their beauty, even though you would never admit that to me? Yes, I heard the gap in your voice, the pause in your joke that could only be explained by a sudden onset of wonder. Wait, where’s my point? Ah yes, my revelation.
This is how we fit together:
You search the darkness to glimpse tiny points of light, while I survey the light to gaze at what obscures it.
There we are, two beings living side by side, looking up at the sky, our lips parting ever so slightly–as if ready for a kiss– in awe of the universe before us. After all, what is the difference between night and day? They are not opposites, rather two sides of the same thing: a revolution that takes place with such constancy it is imperceptible to our senses, as we spin and circle our favorite star while the clouds swirl all around us.
Love,
your little rain cloud and twinkling star,
Rebecca
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