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2/16/04
Love
story ...
It's taken
me two and half months to write this entry which may mean something because
it's two and half months to the day before I get married.
On May 1st,
I'm getting married.
There are
a lot of reasons I haven't written about it before now, and they all sound
a little lame at this late date, but I'll just leave it at this: I've
never been good writing about my love life here and the woman I'm marrying
is not a writer, a journaler, a public person or anyone who's even particularly
interested in this part of what I do. She likes her privacy and I like
that she likes her privacy.
Plus, we've
been engaged for a while now and I didn't want to drag out the "Engagement
Entries" period any longer than I needed to. My friends and family
have known for a while. But love can be really boring to anyone who's
not in it and what seems wondrous and great to me is tough to translate
into words that go out into the world.
Which may
be the real reason I haven't written this sooner. I don't know if I have
the right words to describe what's happened to us, where I am right now,
who I am when I'm with her. It's not the same person. We're in a secret
society of two, where a language has developed that's gibberish to the
outside world. I could sit here all day and tell you what an amazing person
I found. How patient she's been with me, how she makes me laugh, how smart
and beautiful and silly she is.
But the
biggest compliment I can give her is that this is the scariest thing I've
ever done in my life, the biggest leap I've ever taken, and I do it with
no hesitation or regret. It's the next step. The real scary thing
would be not to do it. I want to marry her. Nothing else seems to matter
right now.
Which isn't
to say it's been easy. I'm a firm believer that nothing in this life worth
having comes without work. But it's also been the greatest reward, the
most amazing calm after unsettling turmoil. Sometimes I feel like we've
fought a war together against all the outside elements and that somehow
we won.
I'd been
in maybe a few too many relationships, but before this one, it had been
one too few. It feels unreal. I wish I could explain it better, but you
probably know someone who's been this happy (or maybe you're feeling it
now). It's gushy and clumsy and outwardly messy; like tears, like sneezing,
like breathing.
And just
like that, it's also the most natural thing in the world, a movement that
feels like stating the obvious.
We just
spent Valentine's Day together. We decided to forego the flowers, the
candy, all the entraneous stuff this year. (We have enough flowers, food
and decorations coming very soon.) We picked up a really good dinner and
ate it at home, together, at the dining room table with candles and wine.
We ate together like we have so many times for so long, and it may have
been the wine, or the time of year, or the back-of-my-mind awareness that
this entry was on its way; but I teared up a little and felt my heart
open up, ripping at the edges as your heart does when it's really working:
Matter breaks down and rebuilds and though it's not the law of human aging,
sometimes your tissue builds back stronger and wiser. I just know that
it was a moment, a choking back of emotion. It all feels right.
I don't
like sappy. I try to avoid it whenever I can and in these pages, I've
tried very hard to be surprising and different, to write in my own voice.
But in writing
about Rebecca, I find my voice has blended with someone else's and the
things I feel aren't just my own anymore. My life has blended, has conjoined.
I'd be a liar or a phantom if I didn't say so here.
If I were
a genius or a more disciplined writer, I might find a thoroughly original
way to say I love her. But even if the words are old, cliched and borrowed,
the emotions certainly aren't.
The next
step is easy.
Any step
I take with this woman I love is easier still.
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