The Kind Of Love I Want

I want to travel with you. I want to stroll down the banks of the Seine River hand in hand. I want to take on New Orleans and New York and New Zealand with you. I want to sit beside you on a twelve hour flight, fall asleep on your shoulder, and wake up to the flight attendant telling us we’re about to land.

I want to road trip to the Grand Canyon, and ride a donkey to the bottom while we laugh at each other. I want to spend the day at the zoo and the aquarium, and I want you to hold me close when the lion roars. I want to share a lifetime of adventures with you.

I want to read with you. I want to share Barrett Browning and Shakespeare with you. I want a sonnet in a dewy meadow at mid-day. I want you to hear my inflection in each soft word; I will only read the sharp words on evenings when passion abounds.

I want to show you my wooded hideaway— the place I take Robert Frost and sink into the thick brush. I want you to care about the road we take to get there. I want to show you Fangorn Forest and the harbors of Rivendell, and I promise to speak Elvish when you ask. I want to search every wardrobe for Narnia and hike to Pemberley. I want you to love it, too.



I want to spend each day with you. I want us to wake each morning with a smile, and when we don’t, I want you to fight the tension with a silence we know won’t last. I want to remember our beginning over 2AM coffee and leftover pizza.

I want to dance in the sprinklers and the rain, and feel the squish of the water between our toes so it makes us feel alive. I want to love without restraint and laugh with reckless abandon. I want our hearts to burst with happiness.

I want to always be friends, especially when we’re fighting. I want to love until the love runs out; because when it does, I know you’ll make me fall in love all over again.

I want it all.

I hope it takes our breath away.