You Are Her

When I was in high school I had a teacher whom I greatly respected, for he was the wisest of men. Short, balding, and with a neatly trimmed beard that he used to stroke whenever he pondered some difficult question, he resembled Socrates -- a modern day sage.

One day in class the discussion turned to the subject of marriage, specifically true love and whether or not there is such a thing as soul mates. A fellow student asked this teacher his opinion on the matter and he responded with a slight chuckle.

"Soul mates...there is no such thing as soul mates. Never be fooled into believing that there is only one woman out there for you to marry. There are plenty of women who can make you happy."

As someone who was thrice divorced, he clearly subscribed to the belief that the concept of soul mates is merely a myth, that instead there are several people out there who can make us happy...and maybe that's true. Maybe there really are dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of potential mates that we meet throughout our lives who we could grow to love, marry, and even be happy with for the remainder of our days. Maybe simply being satisfied with finding someone to share a few laughs with who provides unwavering companionship is how most people unwittingly define love, and maybe for them that is enough...but it is not enough for me.

I knew that day in high school as I listened to the wisest man I have ever known pontificate on love and soul mates that he was wrong...completely and utterly wrong. I knew then, just as I do now, that although there are many people in this world who can make us happy, there is only one person who can touch that deepest and most intimate part of your heart, the place where a love that defies description or understanding resides. 

Ornela, on our first night together at Harvard when we sat across from each other holding hands, I told you something very dear to me. It was a simple phrase, probably something you overlooked and thought nothing of. But I have waited my entire life to say the words I spoke to you that night...three words that I have never told any woman before. I looked into your eyes and said: You are her.

These words...these three words encompass everything I feel for you. All my devotion, all my respect, all my love for you is encapsulated in this simple phrase.

You are her...the woman I have spent my whole life searching for. 

You are her...the woman I want to give myself to. 

You are her...the woman I have fallen in love with.

You are her Ornela...and I just want to love you. I have tried so hard, harder than any endeavor I have ever undertaken, to show you how deeply I love you. Over the past ten months I have written you nearly forty letters and stories that reveal not only my love for you, but also the most intimate parts of my heart as well. I have tried to put into words a feeling that is in my heart, a very special feeling that I have never experienced before. This feeling, this love that I have for you comes from the deepest part of my heart, the most intimate part where I stand naked and exposed, the part I want to share with only one person in this entire world -- you. 

You and I are not like most people Ornela...yet somehow we found each other. Against all odds, our paths intertwined to bring us together. We are two very unique souls who have found the rarest and most beautiful of gifts with each other: love. 

Ornela...I have no words to describe the depth of my love for you. You are everything that is beautiful. You are my soul mate. You are her.

Simple Moments

You stand over the kitchen sink, cutting tomatoes and cucumbers to mix into the dish that you are preparing for our dinner. On the countertop beside you rests spices, herbs, and the flatbread that will soon be placed in the oven. Your hands move quickly as they continue to chop and mix, undoubtedly accustomed to this routine as they prepare dinner for your unexpected guest.

I stand on the opposite side of the kitchen, my gaze alternating between the rain falling outside and the woman I am in love with. "Do you need any help?" I ask.

"No, I think I've got it," you reply without looking towards me.

You're wearing old pajamas without any makeup on and your hair is still wet from just getting out of the shower, but I can't help but marvel at how beautiful you are. I want to hold you right now. I want to throw my arms around your waist and hug you tightly from behind as you smile and let me kiss your cheek. But I don't do that...not anymore. I don't reach out to hold you because I know you will push me away. I sigh, quietly to escape your notice, and make small talk instead. I ask you some meaningless question about what seasonings go into the meal and comment on the weather while we both feign interest in this hollow conversation. In this moment, when all I want to do is be close to you, I feel more distant than ever before.

I've travelled 1,300 miles to see you, but the last five feet are the hardest to bridge. Though I stand relaxed with arms crossed as I lean against the countertop, my mind races to find the right words. I'm nervous. I don't know what to ask you. I don't know what to say that won't cause you to push me further away. I want to tell you that I love you, that you are the only woman I have ever fallen in love with. I want to tell you that I have changed, that I really am a different man now, a man whose wanderlust and immaturity have been replaced by a deep desire to have a committed relationship with you. In this moment, as we stand beside one another in your kitchen, I want to pour out all of the love that overflows from my heart...the love that burns only for you. These are the conversations that I want to have with you Ornela, these deep conversations where we bare our feelings and souls to each other and grow closer because of it.

"Dinner looks great," I say as we sit down at your kitchen table to eat.

You smile, but do not reply.          

I wish I knew the feelings behind that smile. I wish I knew what you are feeling right now as you serve me dinner. If you could see my feelings as we sit together and eat, you would know that this moment with you is the happiest I have been in weeks. You would know that my imagination is running wild, and it is giving me a glimpse into our life together. I don't see the distant woman who I have not held in three years. I see my wife. I don't see an apartment kitchen that you share with three roommates. I see our home. I see a life that we have built together, a life shared as a loving couple who take their greatest pleasure in simply being together. I see all of this over a home cooked meal at a kitchen table...because we are sharing this simplest of moments together. I see not only the life we should have shared together, but the one we still can. 

You probably think it very silly of me to romanticize something as simple as having dinner together, something that probably meant nothing to you. But that moment with you meant everything to me. You see Ornela, it is not the passionate moments of physical intimacy that bind two souls together. Nor is it some spectacular showcase of adoration that caused me to give you my heart. It is the simple moments, like the one we shared together over a meal that you prepared just for me, that show me what an incredible woman you truly are. It is the simple moments that show me why I love you.

Ask Me Ornela...Ask Me

"I don't want what we had before Ornela. I want a real relationship with you, a committed relationship where we see each other every day and really know what is going on in each other's lives. I want a relationship with you that will grow into something so much more than anything we have ever experienced before, a relationship that will hopefully last forever."

"I want that too Bobby."

These are the words we spoke to each other back in June after not seeing one another in two and a half years. At the time, I believed that we had finally made it. After all the years of frustration and heartbreak, we finally both loved each other...we were going to make our relationship work this time. We were going to be together as boyfriend and girlfriend. I was happier than I have ever been in my entire life...because of you Ornela.

But this happiness lasted only a few brief months, barely an instant before you ended everything and pushed me away.

I was hurt, very deeply, so I fled to the only refuge that has ever offered me any consolation in my greatest moments of grief, the sole sanctuary into which I retreat often and without hesitation: my writing. 

The result has been an outpouring of letters expressing years of repressed feelings for you Ornela. I do not know if you want me to keep writing you these love letters or not. I do not know if you love me or even if you ever want to see me again. I do not know anything that I once thought certain because you have been silent for so long. I always hoped that something I said in my journal, some random sentence or phrase, would finally break through to your heart and make you feel for me what I have felt for you for so very long. I hoped that some adoring words I spoke would rekindle your love for me, but I am starting to believe that those words do not exist. I am starting to believe that there is nothing I can say or do to ever break down the walls separating me from your heart. My pen is running dry, and it is frightening me.

I don't know what to do anymore Ornela. For ten months I have tried to carry the entire weight of a relationship with you by myself, my only strength coming from the hope that one day you would look deep into my eyes and say, "I love you Bobby." I have held out hope for so long because I know that you still read this journal and I truly believed that the only reason you come back here to read all of these love letters that I have written you is because you still love me. I could not imagine any other explanation. But this journal is not a substitute for a real relationship. Communication only flows one way so that I can always give my love to you, but never receive anything back. All I receive is silence, and it hurts.

Every morning when I wake up and check my e-mail for the first time, I always hope that this is the day when I see that I have a message from you. I always hope that this will be the day when instead of writing you a love letter, I will read a letter from you expressing your love for me and asking me to come to Boston to be with you. Only once before has this happened, and that day in June when I read your words asking me back into your life, I cried tears of joy. 

I love you so much Ornela, and I want to have a relationship with you more than anything in this world because I know just how special of a person you truly are. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and your capacity for kindness and compassion is beyond that of anything I thought possible. You are incredibly smart, so much fun to joke around and enjoy life's silly moments with, and yet you have never shown the slightest hint of narcissism or vanity that plagues those with half of your gifts. Ornela...I love all of you, every piece that makes you the unique and beautiful person that you are. But more than that...I trust you. I trust you completely and without fail because you have more integrity than anyone I have ever met. You have never lied to me...and I know that you never will. Trust is the reason I have opened my heart to you to reveal every part of who I am...it is the reason I fell in love with you.

We only have so much time left, and I don't want to waste another second apart from you. We have watched too much time go by already. I waited for years to be completely sure that I was in love with you before finally declaring that love...but by then it was too late. I now know that no one is ever completely sure about beginning a new relationship, and that is ok. All you can do is find someone you love, know that they love you too, and trust that your love for each other will be enough. Here we are, some six years after our first meeting, and we have been given another chance...likely our final chance at love. I recognize that and have poured all of myself into showing you how serious I am about having a relationship with you and how deeply for you my love truly runs. I don't want what we had before...I want something so much more than that. And I believe you want that too. Let's stop always looking at our past and instead look towards our future, an amazing future where we can share our lives together in love.

You have so many burdens in your life right now, burdens that I want so badly to lift from your shoulders. That is what I hope my love letters do for you Ornela. I hope that my letters show you how very deeply I love you and help soothe your weary heart. I hope these letters make you happy...that is why I write them. All I ask is for you to seriously reflect on why you are still reading my love letters. Ask yourself why you still open your heart to me and let me get close to you every time you read my journal. If the answer is that you are simply curious at my behavior, then so be it. But if the answer is that you still love me, that you have always loved me even after all this time, then I ask one more thing of you...the most important thing of all. Keep your promise to me Ornela. Keep your promise to give our love the chance it deserves...the chance to grow into something wonderful. 

Ask me to come to Boston to be with you. Ask me to be your best friend, lover, and soul mate. Ask me to be your boyfriend. Just ask me Ornela...and I will say the words that you have waited so long to hear. I will say yes.

Love,

Bobby

I Miss You Ornela

I look at your number displayed on my phone screen as my thumb hovers over the call button. I want to call you tonight, not for any reason in particular, but just to see how you are doing. I want to hear about how your thesis is coming along, if your mother's health has improved at all...I know her condition weighs on you so very much, and if you ever removed that scary mask that hangs on the wall opposite your bed. I want to talk to you about everything and nothing in particular. More than anything, I just want to hear your voice.

"Who are you about to call?" my dad says as he passes by me on his way to the kitchen.

"No one," I reply, and flip my phone closed.

He rummages through the refrigerator and finds some cold cuts and cheese to make himself a sandwich. He offers me some but I refuse.

"You sure you don't want anything?" he asks, his brow furrowed slightly to betray his concern. "Your face is looking a little more gaunt than the last time you visited home. You're eating enough aren't you?"

"I'm fine dad," I say and sit down at the kitchen table to stare out the window into the back yard. The leaves on most of the trees are already a vibrant array of reds, oranges, and yellows. Winter will be here soon.

My dad takes a seat next to me and offers me half of his sandwich, which I again refuse. "Bobby, you have not been yourself lately. What is the matter?"

"I told you dad, I'm fine. I just wanted to get out of Atlanta for a little while and come home."

"That's understandable," he says. "The city can be a bit crowded sometimes. Didn't you leave Atlanta for a few days earlier this month too? Your mother tells me that you went camping with some friends."

"Camping? Oh, yeah...it was nice."

"I noticed that you didn't take your sleeping bag or any tents though since they are all still here at the house," my dad says, never taking his eyes off of me as I look away.

I say nothing.

"Bobby, your mother is worried about you because you just left for several days and never called. Who are these friends that you went camping with?"

I close my eyes and rub them with both hands, partially to relieve the mounting stress but mostly to conceal the tears that are just beginning to well up.

"I didn't go camping dad. That's just what I told mom so she would not worry about my absence for a few days. I went to Boston."

"Boston?" he surprisingly asks. "What for?"

"I just had some things that I needed to see about."

"Hmm," my dad replies, mumbling something to himself. "Didn't you used to date a girl who lives in Boston?"

"Yes, a long time ago."

"What was her name again?"

"Ornela."

"Oh yes, that's right...the very pretty girl. She was the only one you ever brought down to the lake house."

"The only one."

"What ever happened to her?" my dad asks.

Without replying I stand up to leave and begin walking away when my dad reaches for my arm.

"Bobby, I figured that you never went camping earlier this month, and though I did not want to pry into your personal life I knew something was not right. Judging by your discouraged demeanor, I figured it had something to do with a woman. Women can make men do crazy things, and lord knows that there are things I did for women when I was your age that your mother will never find out about. But if you care enough about this woman to travel all the way across the country just to see her, you must have very strong feelings for her."

"I love her."

"Does she know that? Did you tell her?"

I chuckle at his question as thoughts of all of the letters, conversations and intimate moments you and I have shared together suddenly appear before my mind's eye. "She knows dad...she knows."

"Then what are you doing here in Dothan with your mother and me? Why aren't you up in Boston with her right now?"

For the first time since I last saw you in Boston I smile. "Because I am waiting for Ornela to ask me to see her when she is ready, and when that day comes I will be there to hold her in my arms and never let go."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the three weeks that have passed since we last saw each other, I have wanted to talk to you every day. However, you asked me not to contact you, and though refraining from doing so has been a daily struggle, I have kept my word to you. I have left you alone to sort out your feelings for me and decide what you truly want. Still, I wonder. I wonder if you ever think about me. I wonder if you miss me, if you wish I was laying next to you in bed at night as we fall asleep in each other's arms. I wonder if our last kiss touched your heart, just as it did mine. More than anything else, I wonder if you will ever tell me that you love me again. I simply do not know...

I could ask you to call me just as I have done so many times before, but I know that it would make no difference. You will choose to reach out to me when you are ready, which may be a week, a month, or a year from now...or maybe never. Again, I simply do not know.

There is so much I do not know, so many questions I have that remain unanswered. But for all of my uncertainty, the one thing I am sure of is that I am in love with you...and I still believe that you love me too. It is this love that we have for one another that I believe will eventually bring us back together. Call it a fool's hope. Call it willful ignorance. I call it faith. I have faith in you Ornela, and in our love too.

I miss you so much Ornela. I wish you would ask me to see you tonight. I wish we could spend all night talking and holding each other close...I just wish that we were together right now.