the ways of a woman in love
I wake up at 7:30 to our flatmate’s alarm through the wall, then at 10ish to her rolling onto my side of the bed, then, shamefully, one last time, at 11:47. We went out last night and she slept through the night but was restless, and kept elbowing me and moving around, probably because of the alcohol. Light sleeper that I am, I only shut my eyes for a couple of hours.
Times are a-changing. We move in two weeks and I’m still not entirely sure how she’s feeling. If it hurts me to imagine what she’s been through, what must it have been like to actually go through it? But I love her now and everything is changing. We’ve lived in this room together for a month or so, and we do almost everything together except when she’s at work, and I don’t want to become codependent but it’s hard because I don’t want to be without her. I’ve become so used to her presence.
It’s not so heavy all the time. We barely talk about sad things - they have a time and a place. We try to be happy and productive together. She cooked me orzo today and it was incredible. I think she would ace culinary school, she’s so talented. She was telling me recently about her dream of one day returning to uni to study anthropology of food, or something in that vein. And I tell her she’s beautiful, which I worry is reducing her to her looks, but it’s just so strikingly clear when you see her that she is incredibly beautiful. I’ve never seen someone so radiant, I’ve never been so in love as to see someone’s eyes sparkle the way hers do.
I daydream of pastel front doors and magnolia trees. A little dog, a silk satin wedding dress. I guess I’m not so far from the rest of them.