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Short Version of a Long Love Story

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We fell in love. Then we met. Yes. That is how it works when sparks fly in cyber space. It all began in a divorce support chat room where the last thing I was looking for was love. After six months of emails, instant messaging, and daily detailed phone conversations, we ran out of questions and the answers were consistent. Seeing each other face to face was just an inevitable step in an already established relationship. Finally a flight was booked. A dear friend drove me to the airport…”dear” because she didn’t question my sanity, at least not openly. I remember my hands trembling as I held my hot tea before boarding a plane to see him for the first time. I wasn’t nervous about traveling 1500 miles to meet this man of my dreams or worried that instead I would be captured by a disturbed internet troll, never to be seen again (though it may have crossed my friend’s mind).  No. He was not the unknown. It was the unfamiliarity of flying, airport procedures like gates, security and layovers that scared the living crap out of me.

A long distance relationship ensued and we became frequent flyers.  I could sleep through take offs, knew which airport restaurants to avoid and was quick on the draw to trade my seat for future free flights. Our love was challenged by distance and immigration procedures but the time spent together was like a hundred honeymoons. This was our life for six years. Elated hellos. Tearful goodbyes. On one sunny day we were riding bikes along a woodland trail in Collingwood, Ontario. We stopped for a moment and he pretended to crouch down to retrieve a water bottle. Instead he looked up at me with a ring.

It’s nine years later and this morning, just like any other morning, I sleepily tap the outside of the electric tea kettle. Yes, it’s hot. He times it well. As I take my favourite orange mug off the shelf, he knows my silence is not for lack of gratitude. He knows I don’t converse until I’ve had at least a half a cup of caffeine…and I know that isn’t easy for him. I know he needs his 15 kilometer bike ride after sitting in an office all day. He knows I need to put my feet up. A tall glass of water waits for me because he knows I probably didn’t drink any all day. He knows me well. It is in this “knowing” that our love keeps growing.

 

Tiny warbler charmed

Beckoned by the westerlies

Warmed by desert sun

 

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Toni asked us to pen a romantic haibun, reminding us also that a haibun is true, not fiction. This is my response.  I think the prose is a work in progress, much like love itself.