Sunday Morning In the House

I'm sitting in my house on the sectional my son recently moved from downstairs to the den upstairs. It's quite comfortable. As is my custom on Sunday mornings, I've put on the music I feel like hearing. It's an eclectic mix with a recurring theme - right now I'm listening to Billy Joel's Just the Way You Are. Before that, Chante Moore's Love's Taken Over, and before that, Chicago's Just You and Me. Picked up on a theme yet? If there's any doubt, Al Green's L-O-V-E Love is now playing? Get it? Got it? Good.

When I burned this CD in the early summer, I was really feeling it. I had someone in my life I was diggin like crazy, who, after years of a 'dry spell' reawakened my hope for the possibility of a relationship that went deep. Butterflies in the stomach, missed him when he was gone, goofy grinning when he called. It's a lovely stage, and one I hadn't had in years.

Unfortunately, it took about a month for things to turn to dirt. (That's Sunday morning talk. Also, the issues that led to our demise are a story for another post.) He still calls from time to time, and I am polite, but there is nothing in the world this man can offer to entice me to voluntarily sit at any table with him. I am grateful to him for one thing, though. Despite things not working out between us, my renewed hope for something beautiful did not die. I vow never again to get into that kind of funk.

I don't know who or where he is. I may have already met him. I just know there is one who gets me, who loves me, and will allow me love him the way I want. Until we're joined, I'm going to continue enjoying my life. Once we're joined, we'll enjoy it together.

Okay, I gotta go now. Al Green is singing I'm So Glad You're Mine, and I must sing with him. This requires my full attention. Besides, I can't post with my eyes closed - yet.