I just put into the oven a chicken on a bed of quartered yukon potatoes, big carrots cut into chunks, rosemary and sage clipped from the backyard, and several cloves of garlic. I have some chard set aside to sautee with it. So life, at this moment, is very good.
Sometimes Jam Guy and I have days where it feels like we're shouting at each other through a brick wall, in separate, exotic languages, both wanting so badly to be heard and understood that it makes us angry and despairing. Some days it is like that. Other days we bang our heads together in our anxiousness to show our love. Still other whole days we spend apart, still, even when we are in the same room, working or playing through our separate lives.
But if you asked me right now to take the whole sum of the happiness and unhappiness of my life right now, I would hardly be able to breathe for all the joy and gratitude that would pour out of my mouth. I would spill out sappy songs like an old people's radio station; I would rave like a whole coven of chattering holy women; I would reach for Jam Guy and wait for you to see the kind of light he carries so that you could understand why I am so happy. I would wait for you to see the way he and I each light the other, the way we go through our easy days and our difficult days blazing because we are next to each other, explosively incandescing paths that no one knew were there before. Just because we are next to each other.
That is how I know I am done looking for a partner.
If I had known that my life would turn this bright I might have gone through my past shuttered and afraid of all the changes I would need to make and endure in order to reach now. At least I would have been afraid to stand here and look back into the kind of shadow I used to think I would learn to adjust to, to see through. I see now how bright my life can be and should be, which makes me grieve the smaller me that thought I should live in darkness. I squint all day long now, incredulous.