The Creeps
Love has a funny way of creeping up on you when you least expect it. Please note I am saying, “not expecting” and not the infamous phrase of “not looking for it”. There is a difference.
I am almost fearful to even write about it, as if it will all disappear simply to put it into words. At the same time I have wanted to shout from the rooftops, “Here now! It’s happening!” Instead I have been more quiet about this gentle surprise—wanting to keep it all safely hidden away so no one picks it apart—especially me. I tend to be someone to overanalyze things. I am sure most folks have figured that out.
I think it’s quite humorous for God to put someone in my life that I never in a million years would have thought I would have fallen in love with when he once had literally made me puke.
He was one of my brother’s friends. I met him when I was six or seven. We walked to school each day, my brother and him and me. I remember him being funny and making me laugh—except the day I puked after listening to him burp the ABC’s. We were in a heated car, my father driving the boys to bowling and me the tag along. He was himself, a goofball, and started to burp these long horrendous sounds, making me nauseous. When we arrived at the bowling alley I went right inside to the bathroom and was sick. This is my most distinct memory of him. I also remember him walking this tiny little dog he told me was named Killer and how I laughed and laughed over that. I find out now that it wasn’t even the dog’s name.
He crept up on me. I crept up on him. Love can be creepy. Who would have thought it?
It’s here now—in all its imperfection and I am just amazed at how different it is than I thought it would be. It is an odd feeling that he stays. I have this fear that he won’t, not because of anything he does because he is consistently consistent. It is something I have to own—this unreasonable fear that I am trying hard to shake, because it is just that—unreasonable. It is amazing to me too, that when I told him that—he didn’t run right then.
Trust is not an easy thing to give when you have had it broken over and over and over again. Yet, I have chosen to jump in with the faith that I have placed my heart into the most tender of hands—in the hands of a man who loves me back.
I come into this from a place of gratitude. I feel lucky. I don’t feel like I am owed this or deserve this or I did anything special to obtain it. Everyone deserves love in their lives but it doesn’t mean they will have it. We can all be doing all the right things, being exactly who we should be, and it doesn’t mean it will happen. I feel so thankful, not out of desperation, not out of loneliness, but out of the sheer appreciation of the man he is and that the great orchestration of events allowed him into my life. It feels like such a wondrous adventure to just sit and do nothing—to let it be and allow it all to unfold as it will. I am grateful for the experience and I am blessed that I am utterly aware of the gift of this time.
I only hope it creeps past so slowly so I can savor every moment.
Monika M. Basile
I am almost fearful to even write about it, as if it will all disappear simply to put it into words. At the same time I have wanted to shout from the rooftops, “Here now! It’s happening!” Instead I have been more quiet about this gentle surprise—wanting to keep it all safely hidden away so no one picks it apart—especially me. I tend to be someone to overanalyze things. I am sure most folks have figured that out.
I think it’s quite humorous for God to put someone in my life that I never in a million years would have thought I would have fallen in love with when he once had literally made me puke.
He was one of my brother’s friends. I met him when I was six or seven. We walked to school each day, my brother and him and me. I remember him being funny and making me laugh—except the day I puked after listening to him burp the ABC’s. We were in a heated car, my father driving the boys to bowling and me the tag along. He was himself, a goofball, and started to burp these long horrendous sounds, making me nauseous. When we arrived at the bowling alley I went right inside to the bathroom and was sick. This is my most distinct memory of him. I also remember him walking this tiny little dog he told me was named Killer and how I laughed and laughed over that. I find out now that it wasn’t even the dog’s name.
He crept up on me. I crept up on him. Love can be creepy. Who would have thought it?
It’s here now—in all its imperfection and I am just amazed at how different it is than I thought it would be. It is an odd feeling that he stays. I have this fear that he won’t, not because of anything he does because he is consistently consistent. It is something I have to own—this unreasonable fear that I am trying hard to shake, because it is just that—unreasonable. It is amazing to me too, that when I told him that—he didn’t run right then.
Trust is not an easy thing to give when you have had it broken over and over and over again. Yet, I have chosen to jump in with the faith that I have placed my heart into the most tender of hands—in the hands of a man who loves me back.
I come into this from a place of gratitude. I feel lucky. I don’t feel like I am owed this or deserve this or I did anything special to obtain it. Everyone deserves love in their lives but it doesn’t mean they will have it. We can all be doing all the right things, being exactly who we should be, and it doesn’t mean it will happen. I feel so thankful, not out of desperation, not out of loneliness, but out of the sheer appreciation of the man he is and that the great orchestration of events allowed him into my life. It feels like such a wondrous adventure to just sit and do nothing—to let it be and allow it all to unfold as it will. I am grateful for the experience and I am blessed that I am utterly aware of the gift of this time.
I only hope it creeps past so slowly so I can savor every moment.
Monika M. Basile
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