You see, you met me at an interesting time; one in which I’d become enveloped in a shroud of introspection while simultaneously running myself ragged trying to balance being a single mother, student, worker, daughter, sister, friend.
My plate had seemingly runneth over. I’m a nurturer and a doer. I am blessed beyond measure for everything I have in tiny world, but I am usually on the giving end of things.
My entire world spun at an alarmingly fast pace from the moment I awoke each morning until I forced myself to sleep (with the dishes still only half-done, lamenting over the leaves in my gutters, and reciting quantum wave theory for my practicum on Thursday… or was it Wednesday?)… until I met you.
I dismissed your importance as a means of survival – that is, until I simply couldn’t anymore. You didn’t deserve that just as I don’t and didn’t deserve the second (and third) opportunity you gave me to allow you mere moments of my time. You asked naught of me except for my time.
My life was calculated and comfortable, but you were reckless, wild-eyed, and so painfully right for me. My heart yearned for more, but my head added layer upon layer of brick to my already high walls guarding the empire I’d built for myself.
I made up every excuse for my actions as a means to dismiss what was right in front of me. You were patient and understanding. You were forgiving and true, which is why I can’t blame you for finally putting your foot down and putting an end to what was/is something we both want(ed).
I want you to thank you, though, for allowing me the opportunity to know that I am still worthy of being loved and capable of loving – that I am looked at as more than a provider, student, employee, or friend. I only wish I could’ve realized it sooner.