Something about her

There's something about her. I can't always put my finger on it. Sometimes I can name it. Sometimes not. It just melts me. Every time. Listen, I'm a man. Been through hard things. Hard times. Endure hard things every day. Wade through pain and frustrations that would make many crack. Sometimes I feel like cracking, too. Sometimes I have to pray hard and fast through strangled tears just to make it through. I've worked more years than those I work with have been alive. I'm tough. Rough around the edges. Stoic and brutish and sometimes cynical and hard. But there is something about that woman that melts me. Every time. All that shellac and veneer. All that painstaking patina. Gone when she's near. She has no idea, I'm sure. I become soft as a baby around her. My heart beats stronger. My mind is set ablaze. The shrapnel in my flesh doesn't hurt. Tiredness in my bones doesn't intrude. I become gooey in her presence. Like clay in her hands. The best parts of a human distilled and sat calmly in a chair. She brings out the best of me without even trying. For years, I tried to show her how amazing she is (and I know others can see it, too), but she remains a feast for my eyes only. What dumb luck! She has no idea how I see her. I thought she would have seen it by now, but she's still blind to it. How is that possible? 

Just seeing her does it to me. Being in her presence. Watching her walk. Basking in her smile. Watching the twinkle in her eyes as she talks. Taking in her essence. Her perfume. Her lovely skin and hair and the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. Her voice softens me. Her movements liquify my heart. I can't help but crumble. And I've always felt her like this. I always felt at rest and at home as soon as she enters the room. It's a completeness. A quickening. A soundness and peace. Excited and calm at the same time. She's my Lois Lane and my kryptonite. 

My, what a woman. She's a force of nature. All woman and all beautiful and all more than any man could want. In one insanely beautiful package. I wish she knew how she makes me feel, but also I wish she didn't. Because that's a power she shouldn't have. Just that knowledge. Just knowing she can melt me. At will. Or without even trying. That's something I've had to reckon with and something I will, no doubt, have to reckon with more, should she stay in my life. It's something beyond my knowledge. Beyond my understanding. It exists without my input. It's just what she does. It's innate. Sewn into the fabric of who she is. In her very DNA, sent off on pheromones and the warmth of her skin. I don't know what it is. There's just something about her. 

***

After living in this town for 1.5 years, I finally got my library card. I was so happy, I skipped out the door without even checking a book out. Maybe next Saturday. 

Oh, and this is post #599. Maybe we should do something special for #600. 

Thank you for reading. And God bless.

And my other blog, None Dare Call It Treason. 

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