Looking back through blog entries from years past on my old faithful Xanga blog, I came across one I had nearly forgotten about. I haven’t forgotten the intensity I felt the day I wrote it, though. I can’t forget that.
March 3, 2003
I want to freeze this moment and save it for a million more moments in my lifetime when I want or need to revisit it and touch its magic and taste its sweetness and hear it in this preciseness. I lay there in his arms and the tears came so suddenly…an emotional response to the intensity of our sharing, our bodies connected perfectly as God dreamed them.
Confusion and concern crossed his face as I shook my head, reassuring him nothing was wrong…no, everything was right. It was just…right. He brushed my hair from my face with a tenderness that took my breath away, his eyes searching mine for a glimpse into my heart.
Tears commonly betray me, met with a fierce resistance from the depths of my resolve, but tonight…tonight they came and I welcomed them. I cried and laughed at the same time, embracing the paradox of feeling coursing through my being at that moment, capturing the love and desire and relief and bliss of being there with him in our perfect moment.
His arms tightened around me, holding me to himself like a priceless treasure. We didn’t need any words.
Phrases from the love song playing in the background floated through my consciousness, their words unobtrusive and strangely comforting.
In this sweet madness…oh, in this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees…when you’re pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie…you’re in the arms of an angel; may you find some comfort here.
I will rest in the arms of an angel tonight. Morning’s light will find me nestled safe there, and then a thousand mornings to come, each sunrise graced, kissed, perfectly traced by the finger of God.
I’ve found my comfort here.
Eight years later I still feel it, this twinge in my heart when I think of him.
I am my beloved’s and he is mine.