October 13, 2002

Never Enough

Calvin and I were sitting in the hot tub this afternoon. We'd finished lunch, during which we were conversing about life, and responsibilities, and goals, and parenting. We continued our conversation, now over an hour long, into the bubbles. And we talked about our relationship, and how far we've come, and how far we have yet to go. We talked about what we would do if something ever happened to the other. We wondered how other people have done it - that continuing on in the face of loss, of crushing despair, of total emptiness. "Living for the memory of" someone who represented your whole world, all of your emotional eggs in one fragile basket because you can't love any other way.

And I started to cry, because there will never be enough time in the world to love him. Even if we make the most of every single moment, even if we cherish each other as hard as we can. Even if we quit our jobs right now and spent every moment together, and discovered some magical pill we could take that would take away the need to sleep, and lived to be a hundred and thirty. There will never be enough time.

You live, and you work, and you strive. You choose some forks in the road, and some are chosen for you. Somehow, some miracle or chance or act of kismet allows you to find that one person, in the millions and billions and zillions of people out there, that you connect with. The one person that convinces you that yes, there is only one other person out there for you. The chance that you could have missed it takes your breath away. The fact that, despite everything and against all odds, you did meet, convinces you that there's some plan, some higher something out there, beyond yourself, that makes things "meant to be". And they become. And so do you.

Only one that is a total and complete fit, a miracle. Somehow you both were in the same place at the same time. And not only were you in the same place at the same time, but you looked up at the same moment, and your eyes met. And not only did your eyes meet, but you both took that step forward that engaged the other, and took it from an across-the-room glance, to a conversation, to a realization.

We met, we connected. We're living, we lived. We're loving, we loved. And the whole time, the thought is running in the background, like a beautiful vacation when you know you have to go back to work in two days. Someday, too soon, it will be over.

I bury my face in his neck, and inhale like I'm drinking him in. Every moment that passes, I try to memorize him. Remember the day, remember the feeling, remember the moment. Every act of kindness, every petty little argument. Every morning spent watching him sleep, every glance captured from across the room. Every inside joke. The feel of his hands on my skin, the color of his hair in the sun. The warmth of his voice, with the ripple of laughter running beneath it. The flecks of green and gold in his eyes. Reaching across and grabbing his hand while he's driving. Everything. Everything.

Cherish this. Remember it. Live and love with all my might. Never forget, never take for granted. What a gift. What a marvellous gift.

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Original content belongs to ME. Exceptions are noted. Stealing really isn't recommended, or necessary.
©Laura Charon 2000 - 2002.