M,
The
absolute terror, in my early love of you, of the possibility that it would not
stay, that something would taint it, that my flaws would kill it and my hubris
would lie alongside my wounded sense of self when the truth comes knocking: the
final nail that declares love unworthy or, worse still, me unworthy of love.
None
of that came to pass, though. It all went deep into the ground and not out into
the atmosphere, useless. It became the thing we are building our life and three
other lives around. It did not fail. It has not failed. It has brough back the
thirst for honesty, for truth, for the whole self in everything and no part of
it left out. Now, it is clear that love will stay. And I intend to stay in it.
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