He lives his life like his ass is on fire. Plain and simple. If it has wheels, he has raced it…shifter carts, drag cars, bikes… If it has wings, he has jumped from it…from the side, from the back, helicopters. If it can attain high speeds he has crashed it…corvettes, too-small-canopies. And if he has raced it or jumped from it or wrecked it – odds are he can rebuild it or repair it. He is beyond mechanically inclined. He volunteers to charge into fires, risking life and limb to help his fellow-man. He is not happy unless he is running at warp speed. (Ass. On. Fire.) Sometimes I watch him without his realizing it – at the drop zone, around the house, etc. I watch his eyes and wonder what goes on behind them. He always has this ‘look’ as if he is internally trying to figure out a complex algebraic equation. I smile as I look at him. There is so much that is still a mystery to me.
And then I came into his life… We have been connected in a weird way ever since we met. To ask him, he knew from the moment he saw me that he wanted me in his life. I know he says that to make me blush but he can recall our first conversation as if it just happened. Months before we started this journey our conversations flirted around the idea of getting to know each other but never actually connected all the way. He always showed interest when I spoke about my life outside of the hanger. I picked up on little details of his life here and there, watching the old videos of skydives and stunts. Things would happen in the hanger and I would always look to Bobby who would already be looking back at me, sharing a knowing smile because we had already discussed whatever scenario had just transpired. Or we would be having a conversation and finish each other’s sentences. He can be sitting somewhere, fully engaged in conversation and I will want to capture that moment, his look. I only have to put my hand on my camera and he immediately looks up as if he knows I am watching him and am poised to shoot. There are small and large things that we have in common – music, phrases, life events – some the same or very similar. There is a horrible (sorry Bobby, I love you…) painting in his spare room from the late 70s. The EXACT same orangey-horrible 70s painting hung in my living room as a child. I think I have a drawing I did when I was in like third grade of that same horrible painting. ((lol)) There are so many things in our histories that, although not exactly the same, run parallel. The blending of our lives (through traumatic injury and all) has been comfortable. We talk to each other as if we can count our life together in years, not weeks. My smile is wide and genuine now. I came across a phrase: “Anyone can be passionate but it takes real lovers to be silly.” That is us. I love that we can be laying in bed, both almost asleep and then (without rhyme or reason) find ourselves in a fit of giggles like little kids. I am a Facebook junkie and he is amazed by the attention he receives through all of my posts and blogs. He loves that I tell the world about what we do, about the things we are looking forward to – he knows I am excited and he shares in that excitement. No more obscure posts on Facebook about yet another nameless boy (nameless for fear of putting titles on things which should remain titleless) who is offering me little more than respite from my loneliness.
Our lives have become epic in simplicity – all we want is more time together. Both of us say we were looking for the same thing – someone who makes sense to us that wants to love us as much as we can love them and who wants to be there for the long haul. Simple. Simple and sweet.
Looking across my romantic history, I tend to get embarrassed. I, too, have lived life as if my ass is on fire. I just went about it differently. Divorces, broken relationships, financial struggles – (Daddy is right, 99% of our problems are self-inflicted. I know this and I have lived this). Bobby makes me realize that everyone has a history but it is their “present” that matters. I am self-conscious, he tells me I am beautiful. I worry and he says it will be ok. He saw me fretting on Saturday when I could not reach my family by phone (during the storm of the century) – without a second thought he loaded me up, picked up ten gallons of gas for Daddy’s generator, 60 bottles of water and some snacks for Sis – then to Fayette County we traveled. “This is what it means when we say, I don’t care if the world is coming to an end as long as I am with you.” He is the Ying to my Yang…the cheese to my macaroni…the purple in my rainbow… He truly makes sense. He makes life easier. I feel alive around him. I daydream. I smile (a lot).
I have come to know him fairly well. I know when he has to have a serious conversation with someone – he leads with a certain foot and holds his shoulders a certain way, always with the “serious Bobby” look. I know when he gets this vacant stare that I need to make sure he has eaten because his blood sugar is probably off. I know when he is trying to lie to make me worry less and when his smile is actually genuine and without concern. Sleeping next to his hospital bed while he was injured, holding his hand, talking through the days, the nights and the pain. The story of his life mingling with the story of mine – tales that weave in and out of each other as if we should have known each other from youth. He is my age (go ahead friend, you can say it – I know I have been guilty of “young” love for too long now). I find that it is suddenly nice to have someone who is my age and can understand (generationally speaking) the things I speak of but yet is ‘alive’ enough to want to do the things that I love right now.
So why am I telling you all of this? ((I stop typing, sit back in my chair, run my fingers through my hair and smile while looking out the window at this overcast day)) *sigh* I love him. An overwhelmingly honest love. He gives me hope. I don’t search for the “this will end because of” scenarios that have happened with all of the relationships of the past decade. I have faith that we will be in this, together, for the long haul. And I started this blog because of all I just wrote in this paragraph. Someone posted a piece of scripture on their page and it kind of rang clear for me (and I am generally not one to post verses because it leads to versus – you know). “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” (1 Cor 13:13).
If you have a love in your life – squeeze them tight for me and let them know. If you can see the love of your life across the room but are afraid to let them know – tell them before it is too late, life and love are both too precious. And if you are in a relationship that is empty and unfulfilling – quit it now, it is not fair to them and it is not fair to you (no matter what the “reason” you try to make yourself believe justifies it).
And, go ahead and vomit in your mouth a little – I know I am all saccharine sweet and lovedrunk. But, I deserve it. He deserves it. And once you find it for yourself, you will realize you deserve it too…
Categories: Personal History / My Own Words