It’s neverending isn’t it? And everyone’s got one. Undeniably.
The journey. The twisting, turning, road we are all traveling in our own individual worlds… trying to get to where we want to be while experiencing all life’s experiences, to put it concisely. Experiencing those experiences, a simple way to phrase the spectrum of vast disappointments, triumphs, heartbreaks, celebrations. Deaths, births, and everything in between. The environment that molds you or you aid in molding. That journey is a dichotomy in its purest form. Both predictable and unpredictable. Chaotic and peaceful. Hurtful and fulfilling. I’d argue no one really wants to be alone on their’s either.
Somewhere along my own journey, one that surely by now, anyone who’s reading this knows a little about, love found me. He found me. He found us, Holden and me. (I like to refer to this duo as two-for-the-price of one.) Unpredictable. And I was at peace. The exact opposite of the innermost struggles and now very complicated values I had been trudging on my own pathway for a while until shortly after that September evening we first met.
I had moved mountains already, but those once treacherous mountains were found to be subtle molehills once looking through the lenses. And I had lots of work left to do.
He told me early on that I was like an antique he looks for when he and an artist friend go picking. The vision of something tarnished and worn, but something with potential far greater than what it appears to be. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed up by being given a little TLC… with an end result far more precious than a naked eye could realize. Truly, he found me. Found me in this world, but really, found the real me before I did myself. It was as if the sheet slid down over my head swiftly down to my ankles, but kept sliding further away. The dust flailing from my shoulders in silence with each particle reflecting the sunshine beaming through the windows with a brighter appearance than I could remember. I, too, then discovered I wasn’t done. I hadn’t moved mountains to just stop there. My journey persisted onward.
Our relationship has been it’s own journey too. Unlike anything I’d met along the road. Not in my own family, my friends, within any whimsical relationship. Guidance, tough love, truth. “No bullshit,” he says. Age difference? May have something to do with it. Yet, theres a softness. Pureness. Support and structure. Genuine good intent. Something research shows is one of the most important factors in contributing a healthy relationship, modernly surpassing good communication. But also it’s two individuals, full of both strengths and weaknesses but complementing each other in ways that fit like puzzle pieces just tight enough. Compatibility, but not just that. And a balance of give and take. Knowing without speaking or being heard. But knowing when the words are said, too. Even still, I find myself in a predicament to put to words the depth of it all. Limitless.
I know it exists with him. The love I lost hope in some time ago. When my lenses were foggy, when my journey ended way too soon, and when I was happy with being just contempt and naive. And that was before my world fell apart in a matter of days. I have what I need now, which is more than I wanted, and with that I can do anything.