In the beginning there was only one source of light
It would die and come back every night
As a woman showing off her thighs
Just a little bit at a time
In the beginning
Everyone bowed their heads towards the light
They would dance and eat their friends alive
We were not happy then
And these were simpler times
Now we are played
We’re the month, we’re the flame
We were aware of the danger
But we could not keep away
My eyes are open
~Typhoon: Artificial Light
Husband and I sat in bed early this morning and reminisced. Reminisced over life and love and screaming matches, (okay, maybe I just screamed). We laughed about laughing while grocery shopping, laughing while walking, and laughing until one of us curled into the fetal position. We reminisced over travel, and sex, and ex’s, and moving; and how the hot messes of today wouldn’t recognize the hot messes of yonder.
Four years ago I woke up alone in a house in Raleigh that I had painstakingly restored with the practice husband.
Jason woke up brutally hungover on a friend’s futon in Wilmington. Okay, so chances are good that I too was hungover. Let’s face it, that was the state of things at the time.
The Irregardless Cafe was the place. In walked a 29-year-old three hours late, (it’s fine; he warned me that morning he was headed home to nap), who had painfully driven two hours to meet a 37-year-old who already had a properly prepared escape plan.
I was a commitment-prone woman with only one tattoo, one dog, a moderately battle-scarred heart, and an expectation for happiness on the other end of a relationship to a yet-to-meet older man with no children in a faraway place from North Carolina. Hmm…it’s amazing what a military stud father with an aversion to another marriage, a penchant for non-commitment, and an intense desire for internal content, can do to said woman. Or what they can do to each other.
God damn, my life is good. My eyes are open. And in case you didn’t know; husband is fucking awesome.
Yes you are my sunlight
You are my last breath of air
I would try to hold it
I would try to keep the moment
Like a photograph of the sunset
Like a little kid with a bug net
Like a dying man, I swear
You belong to me, you belong to me
If you belong to anyone then you belong to me
But I have no other place to keep you safe
but in my shaking, ever shaking melody