I Want To Share My Life With You

I want to go places with you.

I’m not saying I want to go ahead and board a space shuttle and head to Mars and other galaxies or trek across the ocean with you. I’m not even saying we have to leave this country or this state or this town. While those are all things that would send my heart into its own frenzy I don’t need half of it.

I want to live with you. 

I’m not saying I want to pack up all my mugs and old birthday cards and the clothes in my closet into boxes. I’m not saying I want to move those boxes relatively anywhere; not a big house or a small apartment. While nothing would please me more than to wake to you in the early hours of morning along with the smell of coffee, I don’t request such lovely things at the moment.

I want to lay with you.

I don’t want to lay in tangled sheets after a crazy long night of rough sex or in a California king bed in an overpriced villa on my honeymoon. While that would be a milestone I would be honored to accomplish with you, that’s not what I ask for.

But I want to go places with you.

It’s that I want to go to places like the home you grew up in. I want to go to the movies and mess with you and throw popcorn into your hair until you get annoyed with me, but you don’t show it because you don’t want to ruin the moment. I want to go to the park and go on walks or walk your dog with you or walk our dogs together even if it means our cars will be filled with all of the dog hair that makes me sneeze five times in a row.

But I want to live with you.

It’s that I want to live and experience life with you. I want to know how it feels to love with you and how it feels to grow as a person emotionally and physically. I want to age with you and still be throwing popcorn into your hair when I’m 80, it’s then that you will still tell me I’m beautiful and I will shy away like the 18-year-old girl I was when we first met.

But I want to lay with you.

It’s that I want to lay in a field so big that I can’t see anything but you and those small delicate daisies. Those daisies that people mistake as weeds but they’re beautiful anyways. Just like the field we’re laying in, because it’s beautiful. Because it doesn’t have to be some king bed or Mars or a penthouse on 5th ave, its just this big open field. We’re laying in the field and my head is on your chest, my arm is going a little numb because of the way it lays behind your head but it doesn’t matter, because I got to go places with you.