When I woke up this morning I had been dreaming of you. I couldn't recall any plot or image but I felt a warm calm halfway between my sternum and my belly button that I only get when I sleep next to you, or dream of you, or think of you. I love you, Goblin.
I told myself I wasn't going to ask it, I knew it was too soon. But lying on the dining room floor I ran my fingers through your hair and felt the words tumble out of me. I'm not used to being this out of control, this possessed by want. Want that lives in the pit of my stomach and aches for the life we are spinning like sugar out of dreams. I love you, Goblin.
I don't have the words to tell you how much I love you, how much I want to spend my life with you, how lucky I feel to have found this with someone I admire, respect and care for so much. How much I want to wake up next to you and bury my face in your neck, your chest. To feel your arms wrapped around me. I love you, Goblin.
You have been home for two weeks, three days and your arrival and the burgeoning summer has made the house a place of vibrance and joy. This morning I took a break from work and baked bread for the first time in a long time. I had forgotten how the act of making bread can instill a sense of place and purpose; I am so excited to make this our home over the coming years. There is so much to say about you, and us and this life we are creating together. But for now I will just say this: I love you, Goblin.
P.S. There's bread at home.
Your car is busted which means I needed to drive you to work today. You had been saying you wanted us to spend more of the mornings together and this morning I saw it. I made your coffee and my tea while you showered and we sat to eat breakfast and read the news together. I have known for a while that being your partner will be one of the biggest joys of my life and I want to do it well. So I will hold you after nightmares and pack your lunches for as long as you'll let me. I love you, Goblin.