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8:09 a.m. - 2007-04-23
When it's right, it's right.

The latest report from Schmoopy Town.

It's official, Mick is a denizen of the Hobbit House.

I know, I know. Trust me, it's as astonishing and weird to me as it is to you. The only one not surprised is Mick. The man is as sure of his heart and our destiny as a couple as Newton was about gravity. Everything from my life experience is screaming at me that this is a huge mistake. The other shoe will drop and he'll come to his senses and be horrified by what he'd signed up for. He will see I am NOT wonderful and amazing and will be sorry, sorry, sorry he'd been duped.

Then I get a grip.

Mick sees me true. It's because he sees me true that he loves me so. All those 'flaws' of mine are exactly what he loves about me most. I remind myself I am living the honest life. I hide nothing about who I am. I'm not making myself over. I'm not truncating anything to make myself more acceptable and less threatening. I am being my whole self. And the man is astonished and grateful that such a one as me is generous enough to want to be with him. He is certain he is the luckiest guy on Earth. The only thing I need to do to make this relationship work is let him love me.

I'm down with that.

What of me? How do I feel about him? I am at peace. He lacks nothing. I will never be soul hungry with Mick. Nor lonely. Or misunderstood. I love his passion. Adore his enthusiasm. Respect his intelligence. Admire his strength. He is solidly 'there' in my heart. It's as though I've known him since ever. His voice on the phone lights me up. His warm sleeping body in our bed is natural and right. Mick isn't just anyone filling up the space, there could be no one else. He's it. I don't ever feel panicky and wretched because he might leave, I don't doubt him despite what I said in the opening paragraph. I worry about Fate sometimes, I fret over my past and get worked up over how little happiness I've ever been allowed to keep and this joy will be snatched away as always. Mick understands my fear and soothes me. He holds me tight and kisses me calm. He takes no umbrage because I mistrust the universe. He understands how it's been with me and doesn't take it personally. He knows I'm not slamming him. I love this most of all. How not every single thought and feeling I have is seen as a personal attack. Mick fucking gets it.

He gets me.

And get me he does. All of me and what comes with me. My children. My wretched past. My fried neurons. My stupid ex-husband. My trees. My altar. My whacked-out hormones. My funky house. My rickety jeep. And my heart. Oh how he has my heart.


Home at last, ~LA


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