i’m writing this because i want to write something beautiful. i want to take language and my favorite words and sort through them, combine them in beautiful ways, and, in one way or another, describe the love we’ve shared together.

and i’m writing this because i hope you’re reading it.

hi, if you are. hi baby.

if you’re not well,

hi anyway.

---

tonight, we said goodbye. for how long, i’m not sure. what we’ll look like, i’m not sure, if i’ll ever see you again, i guess i’m not sure. we said goodbye, we did it in love, and then i pushed that big red button for what might have been the last time.

here’s what i remember now, what i want to remember. i share this here, because in remembering, in recording, i find that remembering becomes less burdensome. on these pages, in this post and others, a record of our love will always exist.

and therefore, our love will always exist.

but i don’t think either one of us believes that we need any sort of record to know that’s true,

and i’ll never have to work hard to remember you.

---

the feeling of holding you from behind, wrapping my arms around your chest, and unraveling in your embrace.

“baby”

the spitting falls on our first night, that awe of wonder and what could be, when our love had the entire world in which to play. worlds of time, worlds of mountains and setting suns and spinning tires, worlds of nights together. this feels apocalyptic.

the security you provided, the safety i found with you, the comfort of knowing that i always, always, had you to come to.

the days we spent in your house, at your ranch, with your horses and on your atv

the way the barista remembered me because i was with you

the wide grins on my drive home from your place

so many things

---

i remember all of it. most of all, though, i remember knowing that things were going to end. i remember knowing you were perfect, i remember believing i loved you, i remember choosing to give you my all even though you’d be ripped away from me oh so soon. i remember loving courageously and unapologetically. i remember forgiving you, i remember being honest with you, i remember you forgiving me.

---

it’s a beautiful thing, to have everything you’ve ever wanted, and letting it go.

because letting go doesn’t mean destroying. it doesn’t mean ending anything, really.

it means giving our love a different home. on these pages, in our letters to one another, in the deepest parts of our hearts,

and i will always, always

yearn to come to you

just one more time.