I want to write you a letter. Unfortunately, by the time the letter will reach you, you would be back home for a good 3 weeks. I want to write you a sonnet, prose, poetry. Really, I just want to write you a letter. Words of a siren to lure you back into my arms.
“I will love you like God, because of God, mighted by the power of God. I will stop expecting your love, demanding your love, trading for your love, gaming for your love. I will simply love. I am giving myself to you, and tomorrow I will do it again. I suppose the clock itself will wear thin its time before I am ended at this altar of dying and dying again.”
–Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz
There has been those moments in the relationship where you and I will “rubber band” each other. One will pull away and it shall pull us back. There has been those moments in your sleep when I look upon your face and think of the foundation you and I had laid. I want this foundation to be strong, to be built by values, character, and unquenchable love.
I drove my roommate to the airport and as we drove through that adorable neighborhood, all my heart did was ache. It ached for a future it hasn’t worked for. It was aching for a life and a home with you. It ached for your entire being to be held close against me. I was aching for things I haven’t experienced, and for the people I have yet met.
Sometimes I wonder if me taking my life savings, flying out of here, and creating a life in the midst of no where would be beneficial. I want to learn something that can’t be taught in schools. This same craving, is a craving for things I haven’t had. Yet my heart aches for these things as if it were a long lost love.
I just need to see something besides the skylines and paved roads.