mixtapes and a sock

And so as I sit here, watching you sort through old photographs and prepare things for storage, my heart is full.

Stack_of_photosI get excited to look through old photos with you. I hardly know anyone in them, but it’s a time where you open up and tell me things about your now-fundamentalist college friends, your dog when he was a puppy, your beautiful best friend who passed away too soon, your God-awful home state football team winning the Super Bowl, your little brother camping, your hilarious clothing choices…all of it. I love all of it. I want to know all of these things because they help me to understand who you are, why you are, and who you’ll be. You are inviting me into such a private part of you.

It’s not every day that someone will ask to lose half of their space and gain things that aren’t theirs, but here you are. Your dresser – 2 t-shirt drawers, 2 pants drawers, 1 long-sleeved and nice shirts drawer and 1 underthings drawer – has cut itself in half. You rearranged the living room so that I could bring in photos of my friends and family. You asked me to make art. Nobody’s ever wanted that before.

You keep every bottle of wine we’ve ever drank and have repeatedly stated you want to put the price and if we liked it on there. We’re never going to get around to it, but the collection is flooding with memories. Hours of Mad Men, of talking in bed about our ex lovers, of planning the weekend ahead. The two empty bottles of whiskey are a memory of who I once was and who I have since become. They were cleansing. I don’t drink gin, because there’s nothing to be angry about anymore. You’ve opened my eyes to a new reality of adulthood that I didn’t know was so desperate to get out.

You’ve changed, too. We’ve gotten out of our honeymoon stage and we’ve started to care about how we look; about going out in public and seeing other humans. And I’m not nervous to turn on Bon Iver anymore like I used to be. I can say things like “in the fall, when we (fill in the blank with something super fun), we can (future plans, future plans)” without having to see your eyes look off and ignore what I said. I get less nervous about your past and more excited about our future. You wrote a song about me. About how you love me. About how you felt when I left, about how you felt when I came back, about how you felt that first night. You can’t sing it without having my eyes tear up. You looked for me in the crowd the last time you sang it.

These are things that would not have happened one year ago. These are things I still can’t believe are happening now. My heart is so full.


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