Each time I reach for you innocence washes over me.
I am young again—scared, daring and ever so aware.
How can this be?
It is the wonder and mystery of the space between us.
The space between us is meant to be breeched.
It is a short distance between us when we are sitting across from each other at the breakfast table or the couch, lying in bed, or poised at the brink of a new aspect of our life. Reaching across that distance reminds me that you and me make us, and that I always want to be ever closer to you.
Reaching out to you is the most daring thing I ever do.
It is easy to take the terrain between the two of us by storm, not even noticing the unknown zone there. But it is more joyful, juicier and riper to practice being there for this particular journey between you and me. And whether it is my hand, your hand or our attention meeting at a new place, on my anatomy or yours, it is a celebration of the two of us uniting. The two of us entering peace talks, peace feels, and creating a path between us.
Us is as good as it gets. And that is incredibly good. And it is always new, always bold, always brings the best of me to the best of you—always offers a reminder of timeless connection, an exception to busyness, dipping us into timeless love.
I love you, and the way you remind me that I love me. We are a puzzle that fits perfectly together.
The space between us is sacred.
That we ever met, that we shared a first word, that I know what you look like in the morning: all of these seem unlikely and yet they happened.
Knowing you, sharing life with you, is the stuff of answered prayers. It’s the clouds parting, and the sun shining gently, warmly my heart and soul.
I am thankful too for the tone of your voice, the way you breathe when we are intimate, the taste of your wrist and the feelings that rise in shared sensations.
There is a holy part of me that dances with a holy part of you: closer than bodies get, deeper than skin can share. It’s bigger than both of us, and it carries us, a sturdy little boat on the sea of life.
The space between us connects us.
When I try and control you or own you or even influence you I miss the sweet space between.
Even when you are at work and I am at home, or we are divided by different interests we are reassured by the fact that we will come together, meet in a place that isn’t quite me and isn’t quite you—but is us. And this place, like a hidden tree house or secret rendezvous is our place, our moment. It is just us. The world disappears when we are there. We touch together, laugh together, dare together, and have nothing to prove or improve together.
The space between us scares us.
That I might lose you keeps me up at night, but it also has me never take you for granted.
That we see through different eyes, always from different locations, have different thoughts and emotions scares me, but it also offers me another world, a world so different and yet so close to mine that I am an honored visitor to breathe your air, touch your hair and be there for you whether you need me or not.
You are so many people to me: part parent, and I am afraid you won’t approve of me; part lover, and I am afraid you might reject me; part child, and I am afraid that you won’t need me. But at the same time each of these lines of relating connects us more fully. When one closes for repairs another opens: making us always accessible to each other, always available.
The space between us tickles us.
Ever notice: you can’t tickle yourself. It takes two to tickle.
And the reminder of all we share and all we don’t and the ongoing mystery of what we will share tickles us both. It reminds us that if we are anything we are funny. Funny when we are serious, funny when we are not. Funny as our hearts break and open and we discover that those two are the same.
The heartbreak we have tried to avoid is the same opening we have always wanted.
The space between us is extraordinary.
As I curled up with you last night, closing the space between us as it pulsed, danced, and shimmered. Journeying through the space between us is always an exploratory mission, and I am the luckiest of voyagers when I reach your shore.
Certainly I love you, but I love the space between too; it makes us playful and available. It allows us to be separate/distinct, and then united. It is the space between that offers us context, a playground that expands and contracts with us always holding us.
Author: Jerry Stocking
Editor: Travis May