To look into a loved one’s face and be utterly humbled such a person holds you as closely in their heart as you hold them, the honor of knowing the radiant chose you to shine among is the deepest love I know between lifetime friends. I am continually amazed these few choose to spend their precious time with me, that I get to be the person they text when they step off an airplane, when their kids are celebrating a success, or they need to be uplifted in crisis. I don’t deserve to rove in circles of royalty; I will never take it for granted. What a thought, should it be true we become like the five people we spend the most time. My closest friends, my greatest loves, inspire me to no end.
I don’t have a thunder clap love story of romance. “I was in the middle before I knew I had begun”. I knew I was in trouble 22 years ago when I started blushing while asking gas station attendants to “fill her up”-— thoughts of this linguist named Philip kept coming unbidden until I was refueled.
Tyler, this was so fluid and powerful in its soft yet harmonic patter of words and images. Thank you for illuminating the hidden and quiet parts of relationships, especially those that are not recognized as such by most of us.
Poets are always in love, and in fear, providing courage against the endless realities of hope…lessness. Relentless romantics willing to share their intimacy in words, crafted like the power of water through stone with silent energy and persistence.
My own moments have been “forged” in the silence of captured glances and the shameless affections that come with touching - intended for assistance, but lingered as connection. That moment that a “lending a hand” is so much more and something only two people will recognize. Catching that unintentional signal within the silent and cursory language of affection that becomes the bond between two people. You write of those moments with such grace and experience.
Fluid and powerful and soft and harmonic. Praises I do not feel worthy of, but will always aim for. Seriously.
And this line is more truth, spoken more simply, than I know how to handle: "Poets are always in love, and in fear, providing courage against the endless realities of hope." Jeebus. You.
Some groceries brought on a night I didn’t want to go out. I just mentioned it on the phone and before I knew it, in the midst of the raging storm, there came a knocking at my door and when I opened it, there, in those hands, were orange juice and instant coffee.
After some kissing, he pulled me into his lap. A little more kissing and his head ended up resting on my chest. I held him as he held me. Beautiful simplicity.
Another night. Kissing in his car before saying goodnight. Just for a second his arms wrapped around me so tight. It was like he felt like I always did. I couldn’t get close enough.
Long before either of those nights. Before there was an us. We hugged a goodnight. The look on his face asked for more but I told myself I imagined it.
Another time getting out of his car. He reached across and ran his hand down my back as I stepped out. I felt the question in that trail, but was too afraid to turn around and answer.
Yet another night at work. In a kitchen. I said something to some coworkers. It came out harsher than I intended and I said as much when discussing it later with others. A different friend (who tries to look on the bright side) said it wasn’t that bitchy. He chimed in by saying yes it was. Most women would take offense. I was surprised and flattered that he was honest. I think that was the moment I realized that lust was turning into something more.
My husband: At a gathering, sharing laughter and talk and wine. When it was time for him to leave, I went to the kitchen to get my coat. Perplexed, I realized I was "going home with him." Like we do now. It just ... WAS. We didn't go home together that night, but I was haunted by forever, children ... a life together. And so it was. 43 years now. Circumstances have changed yet we remain together. My best friend and champion.
My lover: The second time, it was in a park under a tree, I was horribly depressed. I released a load of the emotional garbage that was haunting me. We had just met in real life, having known each other for 6 months online [ on Live Journal ] with no spark other than an instant friendship. He reached out and took me in his arms, to comfort me, and the light was blinding. The electricity made me pull away, startled and confused, but I knew then that it had happened, and so did he. We celebrate that day as our anniversary, 17 years now.
It took almost the length of two whole movies for our hands to finally touch, to fill the space between us on that couch. Two hands taking hold of one another, and it was the beginning of everything.
This was beautiful- and I enjoyed reading everyone’s ’moments’. Because it made me remember what I had forgotten- that in my youth, a thrill of new love, in a simple touch, existed. I miss that.
After working a full day, he went home, baked a loaf of banana bread, and drove 45 minutes to deliver it to me and my colleagues who were working the late shift. He makes me feel like I’m worth the effort.
This. I love your love story. And I love the small moments.
My partner and I are celebrating three years together today. It was our first date, after dinner, standing outside in September darkness while he showed me the cabin he was building. He put his hand on my back and let it rest there for just a moment. I returned the gesture, for just a moment. And I knew.
We were the best of friends, sitting on the front porch of an old college house … there were no more chairs so I sat on his lap. I’ve never felt so safe or warm or held. Later that night he kissed me for the first time. 25 years later and I still feel warm and safe and held every day . The fire is still burning 🔥
This October 5th will mark two years since our first date. Which, I swore, had this date not panned out, I was DONE, no màs, d-o-n-e- with this dating bs, again. After over 12 years, post divorce- I was thiiiiiiis close to being OVER. IT. For the long haul.
So, conversation flowed easily, smiles and laughs occurred and at the end of the dinner date- me being super guarded, him being so as well (his divorce more raw and recent) - all he got was a quick side hug. My explanation later was, to my defense, I’m 5’2”, he’s 6’1” and had I full on hugged him, my face would’ve been in his chest and that was just, well, awkward.
What I didn’t tell him was when I got back in my car, I just had to sit….because the feeling was one of 2000 volts paired with sitting quietly watching the snow fall in the mountains. Electric, calm, hard to breathe.
See you in Ireland in April, my friend. 🇮🇪💍👰🏼♀️🤵🏼📸
Beautiful !
Thank you!
To look into a loved one’s face and be utterly humbled such a person holds you as closely in their heart as you hold them, the honor of knowing the radiant chose you to shine among is the deepest love I know between lifetime friends. I am continually amazed these few choose to spend their precious time with me, that I get to be the person they text when they step off an airplane, when their kids are celebrating a success, or they need to be uplifted in crisis. I don’t deserve to rove in circles of royalty; I will never take it for granted. What a thought, should it be true we become like the five people we spend the most time. My closest friends, my greatest loves, inspire me to no end.
I don’t have a thunder clap love story of romance. “I was in the middle before I knew I had begun”. I knew I was in trouble 22 years ago when I started blushing while asking gas station attendants to “fill her up”-— thoughts of this linguist named Philip kept coming unbidden until I was refueled.
You are so very right with this. Seriously. This line got me: "My closest friends, my greatest loves, inspire me to no end." Wow.
Tyler, this was so fluid and powerful in its soft yet harmonic patter of words and images. Thank you for illuminating the hidden and quiet parts of relationships, especially those that are not recognized as such by most of us.
Poets are always in love, and in fear, providing courage against the endless realities of hope…lessness. Relentless romantics willing to share their intimacy in words, crafted like the power of water through stone with silent energy and persistence.
My own moments have been “forged” in the silence of captured glances and the shameless affections that come with touching - intended for assistance, but lingered as connection. That moment that a “lending a hand” is so much more and something only two people will recognize. Catching that unintentional signal within the silent and cursory language of affection that becomes the bond between two people. You write of those moments with such grace and experience.
Here is my inspired haiku;
Trust and hope well mixed.
A glance shared between two hearts
Knowing what “it” is… 💞
Fluid and powerful and soft and harmonic. Praises I do not feel worthy of, but will always aim for. Seriously.
And this line is more truth, spoken more simply, than I know how to handle: "Poets are always in love, and in fear, providing courage against the endless realities of hope." Jeebus. You.
Your haiku is the perfect cherry on top.
Some groceries brought on a night I didn’t want to go out. I just mentioned it on the phone and before I knew it, in the midst of the raging storm, there came a knocking at my door and when I opened it, there, in those hands, were orange juice and instant coffee.
Oh my gosh, this just fluttered my entire soul.
After some kissing, he pulled me into his lap. A little more kissing and his head ended up resting on my chest. I held him as he held me. Beautiful simplicity.
Another night. Kissing in his car before saying goodnight. Just for a second his arms wrapped around me so tight. It was like he felt like I always did. I couldn’t get close enough.
Long before either of those nights. Before there was an us. We hugged a goodnight. The look on his face asked for more but I told myself I imagined it.
Another time getting out of his car. He reached across and ran his hand down my back as I stepped out. I felt the question in that trail, but was too afraid to turn around and answer.
Yet another night at work. In a kitchen. I said something to some coworkers. It came out harsher than I intended and I said as much when discussing it later with others. A different friend (who tries to look on the bright side) said it wasn’t that bitchy. He chimed in by saying yes it was. Most women would take offense. I was surprised and flattered that he was honest. I think that was the moment I realized that lust was turning into something more.
Oh my gosh Andrea, this one just drips with gentle grace.
I have, miraculously, had lightning strike twice.
My husband: At a gathering, sharing laughter and talk and wine. When it was time for him to leave, I went to the kitchen to get my coat. Perplexed, I realized I was "going home with him." Like we do now. It just ... WAS. We didn't go home together that night, but I was haunted by forever, children ... a life together. And so it was. 43 years now. Circumstances have changed yet we remain together. My best friend and champion.
My lover: The second time, it was in a park under a tree, I was horribly depressed. I released a load of the emotional garbage that was haunting me. We had just met in real life, having known each other for 6 months online [ on Live Journal ] with no spark other than an instant friendship. He reached out and took me in his arms, to comfort me, and the light was blinding. The electricity made me pull away, startled and confused, but I knew then that it had happened, and so did he. We celebrate that day as our anniversary, 17 years now.
Two strikes in one life, what a gift. Both of these are such beautiful little vignettes, seriously. Like glimpsing tiny scenes of a great big movie.
It took almost the length of two whole movies for our hands to finally touch, to fill the space between us on that couch. Two hands taking hold of one another, and it was the beginning of everything.
IT ALWAYS IS! I LOVE THIS. Sorry for shouting.
This was beautiful- and I enjoyed reading everyone’s ’moments’. Because it made me remember what I had forgotten- that in my youth, a thrill of new love, in a simple touch, existed. I miss that.
Fully agree, everyone's moments are so beautiful. And the missing is so deep sometimes, isn't it?
After working a full day, he went home, baked a loaf of banana bread, and drove 45 minutes to deliver it to me and my colleagues who were working the late shift. He makes me feel like I’m worth the effort.
You are. You always are.
This. I love your love story. And I love the small moments.
My partner and I are celebrating three years together today. It was our first date, after dinner, standing outside in September darkness while he showed me the cabin he was building. He put his hand on my back and let it rest there for just a moment. I returned the gesture, for just a moment. And I knew.
HAPPY THREE YEARS! Also for some reason your last three sentences made me cry. I am so happy for your love.
Well now I'm over here crying!! Haha. Thank you, Tyler :)
Thank YOU. What a gentle testament.
We were the best of friends, sitting on the front porch of an old college house … there were no more chairs so I sat on his lap. I’ve never felt so safe or warm or held. Later that night he kissed me for the first time. 25 years later and I still feel warm and safe and held every day . The fire is still burning 🔥
Oh my gosh, what a stunning beginning. I LOVE IT. One seat on one lap, and 1/4 a century is born.
This October 5th will mark two years since our first date. Which, I swore, had this date not panned out, I was DONE, no màs, d-o-n-e- with this dating bs, again. After over 12 years, post divorce- I was thiiiiiiis close to being OVER. IT. For the long haul.
So, conversation flowed easily, smiles and laughs occurred and at the end of the dinner date- me being super guarded, him being so as well (his divorce more raw and recent) - all he got was a quick side hug. My explanation later was, to my defense, I’m 5’2”, he’s 6’1” and had I full on hugged him, my face would’ve been in his chest and that was just, well, awkward.
What I didn’t tell him was when I got back in my car, I just had to sit….because the feeling was one of 2000 volts paired with sitting quietly watching the snow fall in the mountains. Electric, calm, hard to breathe.
See you in Ireland in April, my friend. 🇮🇪💍👰🏼♀️🤵🏼📸
SEE YOU IN IRELAND INDEEEEEEEEEED! I cannot wait to photograph your love. :)