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March 8, 2016

I Love Not Knowing when I’ll Meet You.

couple, kiss, outside, love, lovers

The most magnificent part of love is the mystery—we never quite know when it’s going to happen. Or how it’s going to happen.

It’s unknowable, unquantifiable, it unfolds surreptitiously, like all the subtle shades of candied color layered in a single sunrise.

We never know when love will shock our tired eyes and wake our weary hearts with bursting hues of ruby red, hibiscus, and deep, sultry indigo.

We never know when tight flower buds will pop, snap, and open suddenly, in full, succulent bloom.

We never know when love could show up on the doorstep of our dreams, kiss us senseless, and take us like a summer thunderstorm, by complete f*cking surprise.

We never know when love could invite us dancing, to sip margaritas by the sea, as we laugh and move, our bodies gliding to deep tango beats as my scarlet-colored skirt blooms like a rose every time you spin me.

Love, I swear I can taste your kiss in the air.

I smell your earthy cologne in the muskiness of old oak trees.

I feel you in the tender unfurling of spring.

I feel your hands on me, as the wind whispers past my cheek.

I feel your wild fire, deep in my bones.

I don’t know who you are. I don’t know where you are. I don’t have the slightest f*cking clue when we’ll meet.

And hell, I love that.

I don’t want to know. I love the deliciousness contained, like nectar, in each distinct petal of not knowing.

Maybe I’ll write you to life from the naked words of a trembling poem.

Maybe I’ll catch your fancy in a crowded café as I sip frothy cappuccinos with a wild, distant look in my eyes, deep in the sapphire pools of a daydream, my fingers scrawling down rough lines of a story at a frantic pace.

Or, maybe, you’ll catch my eye as you’re going for a run in the forest, sweat dripping from your forehead, in beads of beautiful saltiness as your feet hit the muddy ground with animalistic fervor and grace.

We just never know when we might brush past each other and feel static electricity jolt us to life, pouring wild magic into our veins—magic that unfurls into a simple conversation, smiles exchanged, the undeniable feeling of immediate connection that makes us both a little weak in the knees.

Who knows where it could lead.

I love not knowing.

Because I swear I can feel you, like the tiny edge of a whisper; a secret not yet exposed, a truth about to reveal itself to the world, soon—so soon.

Because I can so vividly picture us running through the park, playing, laughing, talking of history, heartbreak, and philosophy as our cheeks turn ruby red, kissed deeply by the dappled rays of afternoon sun.

We’ll go on spontaneous adventures at the drop of a hat, tasting luscious pinot noir bloom our tongues, swimming in turquoise seas and falling more deeply in love with life, as we fall in love with each other.

We’ll tackle mountain hikes so tough our muscles with ache and scream, ’til we come to a gushing waterfall and dip our toes in, shouting at the top of our lungs in relief as the cool water hits our sweaty skin.

We will kiss under weeping branches and make love in the emerald thickets of the forest.

You will be just as restless as I am.

Maybe you’ll be my soulmate, or maybe you’ll be someone completely amazing, who can teach me about love, about life.

I feel you, I feel the delicious possibility of you, opening into the air, unfurling like tender curls of smoke. As I clear pain and crystallized tears from my heart, as I sweep the heavy, sad branches of my soul clean, I feel you. I feel you more and more, whispering to me before I wake in the morning, singing softly in my ears just before I go to sleep at night.

I look forward to your coming, like summer, like fireflies, like rain, like a full moon.

I don’t know when we will meet, but I love the subtle juiciness of that still-wrapped mystery.

When our lips finally touch, the sky will celebrate in jeweled hues of violet and tangerine, a sunrise so beautiful it will break our hearts.

But I sure as hell am not gonna sit around, mope, and wait for you; that’s just not my style.

I am going to live vibrantly, beautifully, boldly.

I am going to pour myself into my work and give my heart to the world, daily.

I am going to fill up my soul.

I am going to howl to the breeze and be just as weird and intense and wild as I really am.

I am going to love myself fiercely.

Because when our paths cross, I want to be my most vibrant, delicious self.

So I can love you the way you deserve to be loved.

So you can love me the way I’ve always yearned to be loved.

And I love not knowing when I’ll meet you.

The anticipation just makes it sweeter.

 

Author: Sarah Harvey

Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photo: Khánh Hmoong/Flickr

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