Mike stared at my dinner: vanilla ice cream and peaches. "Well, that's also what you did when you were a child and when you were at college, so I don't see how this is any different."
"Yes, but now I can't get in trouble for it." By 'trouble,' I meant both my parents' discipline and my slow college metabolism.
"You want some, don't-cha?" I chirped, licking the peach juice off the spoon and digging it into the ice cream carton.
Mike looked at the pirogues he was boiling (Midwestern friends: don't ask) and back to my ice cream. "Kinda," he mumbled.
And so goes our beautiful life. We found out last week that we will be moving to Europe in January for a (shorter) stay with Trans World Radio. For the first time in so, so many years, I feel like I am finally at home: in my own body, in Mike's arms, in the cozy apartment I come back to at the end of the day. Recently, I've worried I'll be devastated to leave our apartment come December. It's been the scene of so much love and learning.
This morning, I forgot something at home, so I ran back later in the day. When I keyed into our apartment smelled the coffee that Mike brews every morning, I stopped in my tracks and wished I could wrap the whole apartment around my body like a blanket. And I was overwhelmed with missing Mike. I realized it's not the apartment. It's Mike. He's my home now. So, take us anywhere you'd like, as long as we're together, and I'll be okay.
A song:
"If you were falling, then I would catch you. You need a light? I'd find a match. Because I love the way you say 'good morning' and you take me the way I am. If you are chilly, here, take my sweater. Your head is aching; I'll make it better. Because I love the way you call me 'baby' and you take me the way I am. I'd buy you Rogiane when you start losing all your hair, sew on patches to all you tear. Because I love you more than I could ever promise, and you take me the way I am. You take me the way I am." --Ingrid Michaelson
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