Found these in a little journal today… They were written while we were in Highlands, NC for my best friend’s wedding.
We showered together today because that jacuzzi tub/shower in the monster bathroom was nearly as big as my kitchen. And afterward, as we toweled off and got dressed, we chattered away. I filled in the gaps for you, between all the introductions, “I’m Kyle… This is my wife Heidi,” helping you map together the connections between who knew who and who went to school with who, etc. You interrupted me to tell me to come quick! Outside our room, there was a rabbit in the mossy side yard. He was just sitting there — nothing terribly special about him. He wasn’t an exotic or unusual creature.
But we stood there together, half-dressed and still dripping and watched him in silence for some time.
You are like water to me.
I told you yesterday, when you told me that I made your life better, I told you, “You soften my edges.”
We had just stopped for an unexpected hike on the way back from Highlands. Down, down, down until we came upon great, big rocks with little rushing fingers of water stretching out across their faces. They edges of the rock, smooth… water-worn.
You help polish me… Make me softer, smoother, easier to handle.
And, like water, powerful, flexible, able to morph into whatever I need.
You wrap around and channel through all my wandering terrain.
All of my old grooves and cracks are now smooth and marked by you.