An I.D. card with my current address arrived late last week. Holding it in my hand, looking down at it was surreal. This address, which has represented so much to me for so long; it’s now mine. This is where I live.
The last few days have been a struggle with feeling undeserving. Going from having not much of anything left to lose to having everything to lose and a small voice whispering ‘ how did you get so lucky?’. The contentment, it is an adjustment. It’s a good job to have, as I said last post, but it is an adjustment never the less.
I can, and do, spend an inordinate amount of time watching you sleep. In the still and the dark and the quiet. Seeking reassurance that you are an actual oasis and not just a mirage in the desert of my previous existence. There is still wonderment at the rise and fall of your chest; the beating of your heart beneath it. The thickness of your eyelashes and the scars that hint at stories. The texture of you, warm beneath my hand. The lines of your muscles, the laugh lines around your eyes. The shorter hair that is spiky and prickles, the longer hair soft to touch. Sometimes my chest tightens, constricted, and I realise I’ve forgotten to breathe.
There is still wonderment.