Thursday, June 5, 2014

On finding love again


It will happen.

Eventually it will cross my threshold again, and my heart will skip a beat, and my stomach will turn. I will jump to what-ifs and maybe-sos. I will close my eyes tightly, trying to picture him in a rocking chair next to me on our front porch in the country, with the dogs in the yard and a garden blooming just inside the fence. In my mind he will play piano while I make dinner, his fingertips skimming effortlessly across the keys. I will photograph him in black and white, studying the contours of his face and the way the light from the window illuminates his freckles.

We will have a song. We will watch movies on the couch. We will travel the world and ride bicycles at the beach and I will wear a big floppy hat. When times get stressful, he will remove his glasses and run his fingers through his hair as he sighs. I will probably cry, and he will know to just let me get it out instead of trying to fix it. We will come up with a plan and eventually fall asleep, ready to start again.

But right now it's not happening, because I'm not ready. I could make an online dating profile or go out with a few really amazing friends that I know are interested, but that would be a great disservice to them. I'm not ready. No amount of them loving me will make me ready to love them back in a way that's fair or kind. The truth is, I'm too busy learning to love myself to devote any such time to loving someone else.

I miss the feeling of being hugged by someone who knows me so intimately that I feel understood and protected. I no longer can look across the room and share a joke with someone without saying a single word. I miss having someone to text at the end of the day. But just because I miss those things doesn't mean I should rush out and find a place holder for those parts of my life. I want it to feel right, not rushed. Free, not forced.

First things first.