Chrisanne and I met in 1976. I was sitting under a desk in our High School drama club meeting. Her eyes caught me off guard. I'd never seen anything like them before. She looked at me when I said my name out loud and she saw me clearly. She knew me. She and I had been old friends from the very beginning.
I honestly don't know how it happened. I don't remember the actual beginning because it seems to both of us, it simply Always Was. There was no start time. The love we had, got bigger and more monumental as the years went past us and we both clung to each other during The Plague and the addictions and the passings and the marriages and the births and the different careers and the blooming of newness in our lives. As we got older and as we tried to live our lives away from each other for a time, we found ourselves constantly drawn back. As if we were attached by some invisible string.
And then we got married. And then we proclaimed who we were not only to each other but to the Universe. And with the support of our friends and our family, our lives joined like they always had, and we've been holding hands ever since.
I can't seem to let go of her. Even if she goes off to the store I can't seem to let go of her. She'll reach for me as we're walking somewhere and all of a sudden, no matter what's happening, my heart races and I'm suddenly safe. I am never without her. I am constantly hungry for her and never bored by her. We've changed each other and we've allowed sameness. We disagree and we tussle, but there's never anything bone cracking about it. We are not brittle together. We are in contact with who we were and we're honored that stays with us. We don't forget our history.
And when things go off, when I'm lost and spiraling, and when I'm afraid of the dark and have to whistle myself calm, all I have to do is turn around, and look into her eyes. I do that, and I know I'm home.