swaddling cloth

i have a dream
i dare to dream
in my finest moments i remember
to believe
to believe

sometimes when i am wistful, or i watch a good love story, or sometimes when i simply need the comfort, i daydream. eyes open or closed, the possibility of him becomes real in my mind. all the fondest of my dating memories and observation of folks like my parents aid in the creation of who he is to me and what he does for me, spiritually and physically.

i feel loved, cared for, and appreciated. my cooking is no longer a waste of food. the comfort of my home rises up to meet his need for rest and solace from the world outside. and his presence calms the storms of my soul. i can focus better, because his presence helps me put things in perspective. i am restful because i know and have studied the depths of his eyes, and his steady gaze is my anchor and my comfort. i am happy when i wrap my arms around his waist and kiss every place that my lips can touch. i am encouraged by his reception to my unfailing appreciation for his body, his mind, and his spirit. he knows my vulnerable places and treads respectful of my dignity, having taken the time to learn me and discover where his strengths bolster my sensitivities, and secure and generous enough to share his secret tendernesses with me, so that i can complement him and feel needed in the process. yet his openness challenges me to be even more open with my feelings, and become even more of myself - more fully and vibrantly myself than ever before. he understands my need for solitude and little crazinesses here and there, and i happily enjoy my time alone in his absence, knowing that we will appreciate it that much more when we get back together. i have finally found someone that enhances me like salt on ripe tomatoes, but with whom i don't feel compelled to lose myself just to keep the music playing. and when i'm with him, in silence, we speak kindness with no words, no glance, no touch, just presence. just the understanding that intuitive love can provide. so i, loving him, respond like flower petals to the light of dawn when he strokes the bend of my torso with strong, steady hands.

when he extends his hand to me, there is nothing awkward about the timing and manner with which i respond in kind. our place in each other's lives is sweet and magical and matter-of-fact, like the chemistry between dance partners who understand each other's movement and rhythm - we make our challenges look easier than they really are. and our dance is like when we make love. when we emerge from the depths of loving each other and sacrificing our very breath to give our best in the sharing of passion unspeakable, the climax of our dancing together is followed by dizzying joy - the kind where i know that the dance was worthwhile, that we gave our all, that the sweat was worth it, that the singing along with the rhythm was sincere, and that i would do it all again for as many times as God would bless me to be able to look into his eyes.

sometimes i believe in him. that he will be as enamored with me as i am with him and that holding me gives him as much pleasure as it gives me to be held. i believe in the closeness of our faces creating excitement in my spine and the contact of our lips being more decadent than fine candy. i imagine myself being too awed to look him in the eye when we exchange vows and crying on some miscellaneous anniversary because of how grateful and blessed i am to have him in my life. i imagine him kissing the forehead of our newborns, consoling our toddlers with skinned knees, and i imagine his face when we console each other as we get through parenting and other challenges that lie ahead. sometimes, i do believe. i believe in the pride i'll have in introducing him to friends and family, and the privilege i'll have of being at his side in public for all the world to see - world, do you see this wonderful child of God, this beautiful spirit, this awesome man? he belongs with me! sometimes... i believe.

and sometimes i wrap that faith around me like a tried and true blanket that you break out of the closet on those cold nights. i let it hold me still and patient like a child in swaddling cloth. and it gets me through on days when i'm tired of calling male relatives and acquaintances to do favors for me, or when i pridefully do something for myself that i know would be so much easier if he was here to help me with it, or when i don't feel like navigating the shark-infested waters of the scary world of men i don't know from adam, or when i am hearing and trying to resist the temptation to panic in the face of the deafeningly screamed, "when are you going to settle down," which is never really uttered in so many words, but is still so loud and clear.

my blanket, my memory, my daydream inspires me and helps me to not settle for anything less than that timeless dance. sometimes i believe the dj will play our song next. i am dressed and ready. but i can wait. knowing that he's somewhere. that our future is really possible. sometimes i believe, with my eyes open or closed, when the possibility of him becomes real in my mind.