For you.

Let’s pull the blankets tight around our naked bodies, so we become an island of warmth in the coolness of the early morning, listening as the rain pours outside our open window.

Let’s ignore all the places we think we need to go.

Let’s forget about all the stories we’ve told, and be here now.

Let’s imagine a moment that lasts more than five minutes in between hello and how are you to I’ve gotta go—too many things to do, and so we say good-bye, slowly—lingering in each others’ presence.

Let’s remember how we got here in the first place.

Let’s count the number of times that we’ve shared a cup of tea, and I’ve secretly sipped from it when you were looking away.

Let’s kiss in the way we did in our first meeting of lips meant as a goodnight parting that turned into this meandering journey.

Let’s make believe that we know where we are going (for once).

Let’s find the sparkly glue sticks and create a map that we want to explore, places we’ll travel to one day.

Let’s dance as if we believed wings were part of our DNA.

Let’s laugh at ourselves, knowing there is no other way in those moments when neither of us want to change our minds, as they are perfectly in place for the space of being right, right?

Let’s chop onions and cry, knowing that soon the tears will dry as we stand over the cast iron skillet stirring a carrot, broccoli, sugar snap pea curry coconut stir fry like the one you made me that night we camped in the Indiana Sand Dunes, and I saw the first flash of a red cardinal in the summer green.

Let’s befriend the monkeys on our backs like the one in Gibraltar—you let him crawl onto your wooly sweater on that damp January morning, so I snapped a pic with one of those old cameras (the kind that needed film), and I can’t find the photo after our last move.

Let’s walk gracefully over the planks of uncertainties—remembering the redwood plank that stretch from the cliff to a sea stack where we sat together, but not together, watching our first sunset at the edge of the Pacific.

Let’s joke about Iowa, and the way we learned that sometimes we have to let go in order to find each other.

Let’s not remember to remember so we forget nothing that wasn’t meant to bring us here, closer together.

Let’s love like no other because we are like no one else—we are a lovely creative complicated combination that is meant to be exactly as we are meant to be.

Let’s love as long as love exists.

Copyright 2014 jes wright

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