Love, part 2

I fell in love again today. I knew it was coming, I knew my second wind was there, lurking as it always does waiting for the prime moment to spring, and it hit me before I was ready. At the Green Line, avoiding the frenetic soundtrack, trying to finish the Apuleius, drinking too-sweet (but real) lemonade, I was seized in a moment of inattentiveness by the notes of Jeff Tweedy and carried into the sudden shock that I was about to cry. The instant where you chest seems to swell painfully and your stomach tightens and your face tingles and pulls into a smiling grimace which accepts the emotion but rejects the expression of it - I can't cry in front of other people, not about this, not today, not here - it seems so selfish and so personal and even trivial in some sense - the daily feeling I carry around and rarely pay attention to (and look, here still I get choked up again) consumes me and I am lost in the ripples of the chords and the image of Ethan's face, just with a single look. I hold our first attempt at vows in my hands and try not to crumple the pages as I look at the words that affirm us, together, in the small life we hope to lead. The quiet meaning sustains me every day that I live. As much as I reject the notion that this relationship defines me I know that I would be empty without it, adrift. And I stare at the page and count off the seconds.. my sister walking in.. my entrance.. leaving my parents.. and suddenly every other task at hand is meaningless. Thirty seconds of music and I am more committed to ceremony of marriage than ever before in my life. I am overwhelmed by the power of the feeling, terrified at my sudden helplessness, and yet unbearably happy. To think it all started with charcoal drawings, starred ceilings, a single note.