House?

I used to think that I might be making it all up in my head. I think, even as a child, I had a cognizant fear that I was not enough. A lot of only children end up with this fear, and I let it run deeply through me. I was so worried that no one would want me.

This fear only got worse in high school. I was dumped by everyone I dated because even when I knew I was holding on too long, I kept holding. I was terrified that if I let this one go, there wouldn't be another one. There always was (and I don't mean that conceitedly, I just meant that I don't learn to think logically) and I held on to them too long too.

College was the worst example of clinging. Simply said.

So, in this situation, I feared the worst (as I am wont to do). My mother (and assumably, if we call it honestly, most other people) figured I'd jumped ship with CA to ease the discomfort of being out of a five year relationship. I worried that dating someone I, at the time, barely knew long-distance was not the wisest of decisions. I feared, too, everything I couldn't see.

Then I moved home, and he finished the bar and we started spending that Honeymoonish time together. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I assumed that eventually he'd tell me he was too busy with work. Or that he couldn't be around. Or that I was more of a nusiance than a help. All the time, I found my life better and better for him being in it.

Around my birthday, I got the first inkling that I wanted to burst outward with, "I am in love with you." I held off, because I was not going to be foolish about it. Around Christmas, when he went home and was so incredibly worried about the gift he was giving to me, I found myself thinking of him constantly. I couldn't stop. So I wrote him an email simply saying that I couldn't wait for the new year to begin because I knew it'd be a year that I spent with him.

We began to say it, tentatively, around Valentine's Day. We came back from Tahoe crazy about each other. It was, by far, the most romantic weekend of my life. But as the month of February progressed, I realized that it had nothing to do with skiing and massages and gin-sticky kisses. It had everything to do with him.

But still, I kept waiting for something to backfire. Just in case.

It hasn't. And every time I try to explain what I can picture in the expanse of the one moment that you whispered, "Let's have a house," I feel like a fool. I'm completely cognizant that there are going to be arguments and at some point one of us will yell angrily. But, in that moment, I could, without fear, imagine you and your arms and never sleeping alone again. I imagine quiet nights and not wondering and feeling safe. It all begun the night you told me I would never have to be alone again.

And when I told you, last night, that I would never leave you, you believed me.

This is really going to happen. And I couldn't be happier. I just want to hear it over and over again, "I am in love with you." It's like you're touching me, even from far away. I want to be your road, that goes and goes.