Jon and I have been married six years today. But, from my experience, love doesn’t count the years, it has its own sense of time.
I feel like I’ve known Jon my whole life and at the same time, it feels like our love is very new. I didn’t know, that I didn’t know what love was, until I met Jon.
It started with talking and listening. Real conversation. I somehow felt comfortable with Jon the first time I met him. And at the time I don’t think I really felt comfortable with anyone.
Our conversations led to an intimacy that I had only dreamed of. That I only knew existed from reading about it.
I still don’t understand it all, I guess we just connect at the points that spark.
I know our dedication to and encouragement of creativity shines bright in our love.
Somehow we were always able to see past the broken parts of each other to that unharmed center. The essence of who we really are.
And I think in the process of loving each other, which includes learning how to communicate better, to trust each other, to disagree with each other, we got closer and closer to that essence.
In my love of Jon I finally understood the importance of sex in a marriage. I lived years without the intimacy and ecstasy of making love. Now I can’t imagine living and loving without it.
And of course, there’s the fun. The joy of the ordinary as well as the extraordinary. Like being able to enjoy going to the dump together on Saturday afternoons.
Jon and I each lived at least one life time before we met each other. I was in my mid forties, he in his early 60’s. But to me it feels like my life just began when we started loving each other together.