We will fight and dislike each other and find fault where there is none. I will try to be reasonable and conscious of what we argue about but I may be childish and forget to breathe and say things I don’t mean. I will walk away, and hope to calm. When I do, I will come back, apologize, and mostly mean it.
I would like to see you dress comfortably when you get old, just like how you are now. I want you to wear your wrinkly worn skin with confidence like happy people who live in the sun.
We will gift each other with time. We will write haikus full of unnecessary syllables and highlight lines of meaningful words in classic literature. You will know how much I like William Blake; his construction of words a meaningful play of thoughts, like an afterthought of some expression or another.
I would like to go sip on drinking chocolate with you, after we come home from a wood paneled cafe. We will be perched in front of each other, sitting on soft wool quilts in front a fireplace. I will love your warmth and your wisdom, a striking balance of your strength and heart. I will find that you are vulnerable, with a bit of a guard.
The saying, “I want to grow old with you”, has never applied to me in all my years. But when it does, with you someday, I want you to know this firsthand.
When I meet you, if I have not yet, I want to let you know now that I want to grow old with you. To grow weak with you as time passes on while nature takes its course.
You may lose me first, or I you. We won’t know until that day comes. When it does, my heart will be heavy. But I know it will be time. I will sit still with you, take refuge in our sanctuary; nestled in the mountains overlooking a lake. Hidden from the world, in our still-ness, I want to be lost inside you.
And we will take a piece of each other with us. Completing that piece when we see each other again, soon enough, someday.