It's the knowing.
Simple, right? It’s why this thing works. This union. This cohabitation. This joining together.
Words might be cross and brows might furrow and voices might rise, but they are rarely met in kind because there is always a reason. Most of the time, the words aren’t as cross as you thought they were, because sometimes you color them with your own brush and your palette is not the same as hers.
We went through a lot of canvasses before we got the mix right, but eventually our sunsets looked like sunsets and our trees looked like trees and the color of our words, in all their various shades and hues, were true.
It’s the knowing.
It’s not a feeling, because feelings are fleeting. Things happen, you feel this, you feel that. The sun hits your face, you feel good. The neighborhood cats crap in your landscaping, you feel angry. You sit on the back porch and watch the sun come up with a cup of coffee, you feel content. There’s nothing wrong with any of that, but it has nothing to do with love.
The sun will come up. Babies will cry. Wolves will howl. You know these things. You don’t second guess them. You don’t try to understand them or over think them. Why bother? They just are.
And that’s love. It just is. It’s not supposed to hurt. You’re not supposed to yearn. It’s like a heartbeat. You just have it.
So, when my lovely Tonya and I are watching TV, or fixing dinner, or talking about what we are going to do for the weekend, it may seem boring to somebody on the outside looking in. There’s no laugh track or canned applause or drama. There’s no soundtrack. Our words are true and our feelings are honest, and there is no other place we would rather be than where we are at that moment.
That is truth.
That is knowing.
That is love.
It’s the knowing.