She wrote me. I wrote back. She responded. And then so did I. We spoke via telephone and soon agreed to meet face-to-face.
We met in a cafe. Had a lunch that bled into the dinner set-up where we said our good-byes. But in the meantime, we talked. And talked. And talked. Such a good time we had, so much discovery.
That get together has led to others and even hand-holding. Ahhhhh . . .
She recently shared: <i>Somehow, I managed to find – managed to be found by – someone who shares my understanding of the world and the nature of reality . . .
Which could have easily been my share.
Still, as often as we have spoken, as grand a time we've had with one another, as close as we are becoming, we are both cautious and dare I say, somewhat fearful. This is new, is precious, is fragile in its beginnings.
And it is everything. Again.
Thus, despite her thinking me beautiful and me thinking the same about her, despite all we've shared and the eagerness we have for more, despite the discoveries made and the euphoria of the prospect of future discoveries, we are careful at naming this . . . confluence of events, except to mutually assert that she and I are most assuredly, most gleefully, an US!