9:59am on a Thursday morning. I'm in a towel, hair wet and dripping, sitting on a couch in an apartment that is not mine with the adorable little dogaroo I've come to love snoring a few yards away from me.
This morning at roughly 1:03am marked the end of my semester and the end of my first year of grad school. When I crawled into bed, I was met with kisses, leg straddling, and words of encouragement and pride from the gorgeous gender explosion girl-lad I have been in a relationship with for the past several months.
Today is the seven year anniversary of when I first thought to get her attention in a way that she would remember. ["Foundation for the pound-ation" we exclaim, and laugh ourselves silly.]
You know me.
I'm all about the slowest burn.
A year ago, I was contemplating if I would miss the coffee my last date would make me in the morning. It seems funny now. I'm dating someone who literally has photographs of her espresso rosettas framed and hanging in multiple cafes around the city. Let me tell you the dream it is to wake up to her pours and carefully selected mugs at 5:30 in the morning.
(pause)
Today is slow and clean and gorgeous. It feels good to be supported. It feels good to be loved in a way that has so many chapters and seeds.
I sit here alone and still in a towel, my hair now slightly damp.
I am thirsty. A tall glass of water sits on a table to my right- the light hitting it in an almost blue-white light. The birds chirp outside- talking shit or talking love. I'll slide my fingers around the glass and lift it toward the window and drink deep.
For now, I toast the summer.
be well; be loved,
k.
(image: Pasamanos que se retuercen en La Casa del Fascio, Terragni, via moriras-lejos tumblr)
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