He was so hard to date and so easy to love. The formality of it he found lacking. Naming things, creating structure a container around such airy yummy doughy feelings.
Feelings that were so formless. So hard to bottle but so easy to smell. Sweet smells of "like" and "getting along" and "enjoying each other's company" such doughy, sticky loping over the sides feelings.
Even though in our twenties it was hard to deny that we were indeed "getting along" enjoying each other's company and "liking" each other.
A lot.
He had a brother/friend who would never say my name. He would refer to me as "queen" I first thought out of it as some deep respect.
And it was ...kinda.
But the other part was my name along side his brothers name means something more and so out of respect to the love dough he would wait as we were all waiting ...
to see ...
see if it would rise.
So we ambled along for years stepping gently over containers and sometimes not so gently. Crashing into convention and time.
Mostly .. My time ... you know the female clock and the female mental clock and the families and friends and their clocks
And the worlds convention.
We are taught so early to name things you know.
Book 📚 car 🚗 dog 🐶 cat 🐈
Me 🙋🏾♀️Him 🙋🏾Us 👩🏾🤝👨🏿 ... bride 👰 groom 🤵Family?
And now
Even now after commitments and vows and rings and ministers and yes after babies 👶🏾 👶🏾 After sickness and deaths after richer and yes poorer after good and crappy times and late nights and early mornings.
And
Even after hearing my much longed for name coming from the lips of the brother along side my love my beloveds. We know there is no real container to form around this beautiful sticky sweet funny joyful hard crispy edgy gloppy thing such as this love. No contract to hold it. Or convention to keep it in place and make it stay. This love that we work on. That we encourage and agree and disagree and we want the best for. This love that we decide on a daily that we give freedom for. Come ... or go. Coaxing... ever so gently Hopeful for it to stay awhile .... a lifetime even ... we say to this love dough. We sit this airy dense love on a very large plate and watch it continue to rise. I love you something sticky and oh so sweet my love...Ali
So grateful So thankful Year 19 Ohh the places we continue to go Dahn and Ali
The Ballards