A Sunday on Valentines Day

Last week was a tough one. A lot of tears were shed and I had to ask myself a lot of tough questions.  One of the biggest points I was able to take away from it was the knowledge that I gained. Two people can look at the same thing and agree it is significant but we will never know what the other sees when they're looking at it. I can see a sunset and so can he but to be with someone you have to trust in the fact that you're seeing things the same way. We haven't given each other that trust and it might never come and that's why it won't always work out the way I might want it too. 

I woke up and got out of bed and when I came back from the bathroom he had a cup of coffee waiting for me. Three sugars and cream. I found myself talking to my mom a lot this week about love and about my own personal versions of it. I told her I hate when people knew things about me. I explained to her that I would rather drink black coffee for eight months and absolutely hate the taste than have someone remember that I take mine with three sugars and too much cream. Because that way when it's over I'd be able to enjoy my sugar and my cream and never have to think about someone who remembered. The next day I woke up and he had my coffee ready; sitting in a red mug on a day others dedicate to floral arrangements and chocolate hearts. I saw sunsets and had my coffee. That day, I didn't drink it black and I trusted he watched the suns set too and that's how I knew it was worth it. 


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