If I could do one thing without consequence or alteration to my current life, I would fall in love again.

The rush and flush of it, the build up and the stomach dropping moments.  The instant his hands caress your face, a cold nose right before a warm kiss, the day you realize you’re in way over your head.  I’d do it all again.

Even the pain.  I’d take the growing pains again and the times of uncertainty.  The figuring each other out and the telling your stories…the stories are my favorite.  That look in his eyes when he learns or discovers something new about you, something that surprises him.  That’s good stuff.

I’ve only fallen in love once.  I mean real love, not my obsessive need to believe Zac Brown is thinking of me when he writes all his love songs.  That’s nutty, I want my hands on those biceps, love and I’m aware, I’m aware.

Real love, I’ve only felt it once.  I’m still feeling it twenty some years later, but I’m talking about the fall.  The blissful, whirling, twirling, nauseating, aching fall.  I’d do that again.

There’s something special about two people coming together and finding each other.  It’s so messy and fumbling and wonderful.  Maybe that’s why I write the stories I write.  Maybe it’s my way of grabbing a front seat to the most important thing we humans do…connect.  Different characters, different complications and lives, but the same draw and drive to share a life.

Oh, almost forgot, I’d take the fall with the same guy.  Can’t imagine that story any other way.  Just rewind and play it again.

My thoughts from the laundry room.  Reoccurring Dream.

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