Are you ready?

The first time we ever touched was to arm wrestle. His hand clasped over mine and I exerted all possible effort to at least get him to budge. Nothing. After a few attempts I looked up at him, worn out.
"Just let me know" he said "when you're ready to start".

Barista

"Awww, thank you! That's a perfect heart!" I tell the barista. "I don't even want to touch it!"

"It was made to be destroyed" he replies, impassive. "What else is a heart good for?"

Textures

I can't sleep. I'm tossing and turning and Boyfriend gets up, walks around the bed and covers me with my ultra soft blanket.
Me: Thanks, but I'm not cold.
Him: I know. But you're really into texture so it might help soothe you.
Me: OK. But I've had issues sleeping for decades and there is no correlation between the - zzzzz

Boyfriend. Insomnia whisperer.

Fragment

I know that my dreams are related to my own subconscious and yet when I dream of someone it feels like I'm holding a fragment of a story they need to piece together and I have to let them know.

Meatloaf

Boyfriend: I'm making meatloaf.
Me: I don't like meatloaf.
Boyfriend: I'll also make an aioli. 
Me: I don't like mayo.
Boyfriend places a plate in front of me with a thick slice of meatloaf studded with pine nuts, dried apricots, chopped olives and vegetables; it's drizzled in a home made, warm, spicy aioli. I taste a little piece, then another, then devour it. 
Boyfriend. Girlfriend expert.

Anticipation

Despite the importance of living in the present I adore anticipation.
Boyfriend just pointed out the correlation between anticipation and anxiety, both related to too much future.

Boyfriend = closet linguist.

Empty bus

While I often wish for a vacant seat, a completely empty bus gives me the sense of having missed the worldwide notification about the apocalypse.

Beauty

It mystifies me that we can remove flight and flutter, movement and magic - even life force - and still be left holding this much beauty.

Something wonderful

Woman on bus: is this the 12?
Me: yes.
Her: are you sure?
Me: yes.
Her: but we are not going where we are supposed to!
Me: this is where we turn right.
Her: No! Look! We're nowhere near Folsom!
Me: It will be OK.

The bus has indeed diverted from its route. A year ago my reaction would have been like hers. Now I yawn and go back to my article.

Something wonderful is happening to me.

Be careful

I try to stop I don't want to say it but I can't help myself I tell my brother be careful be careful and he looks exasperated do you think I want to get hurt that if you say nothing I won't be I love you I blurt what it really means is I love you and now I've made him even more uncomfortable 
Neither of us know what to do with me

Nordic Oracle

Boyfriend and I were at Burning Man and a guy walked up and asked if we'd be a Nordic Oracle. He guided us inside a tent where we hid behind a mask people consulted.
Person 1: Nordic Oracle, why did I come to Burning Man?
Me: To reclaim wonder.
Person 2: Should I leave everything and go to NY to become an artist?
Boyfriend: You can become an artist anywhere.
Person 3: Will Joe be happy without me?
Me: before, during and after you Joe's happiness related only to Joe.

So yes. There was a time Boyfriend and I, coated in dust, roamed the desert channeling a Nordic Oracle.

My word.

About two years ago walking around San Francisco I saw a woman sitting at a desk in front of an old typewriter.

A sign next to her on the sidewalk read “A word = two dollars”.

I sat down.

She looked at me.

Her: How can I help you?

Me: I’d like a word.

Her: OK. Tell me about yourself.

Me: Everything is changing nothing is in its place I know what’s right but I’m scared sometimes I want a word to remind me of that place that’s mine where I belong where I will always be safe I love words I can carry it with me I don’t know what else to say.

She takes a piece of paper, inserts it into the typewriter, types something, pulls it out and hands it to me. I pay her and leave.

A few blocks away I open it.

“Precipice”.