Something More Than Love
Nicholas, I said to you once, “I am so welded to Bob.” You said, “I know.” What did we mean by that, I wonder? It’s more than love. More than commitment. It seems to be a biological fact. Like my having two arms.
Not sure when this happened. I know we’d been married two years before I started being married in my dreams.
Can’t begin to say when this additional connection happened. Or began to happen.
And I know of no word for it. It has no name, no history, no sensation. Just is.
Never mind that he’s with some frequency one of the planet’s more cantankerous individuals. Details, good or bad, don’t reach down as far as this welded place. The word “welded” is a metaphor, of course, a clumsy one.
Much as I love language, I think it may be better that there’s no encompassing word. That would seem to draw limits.
I’ve done nothing to earn this thing, wouldn’t have imagined myself capable of it.
Anyway, I’m grateful for it.
Thanks for this conversation, which is also sustaining.