Twelve: An anniversary homage

November 23, 2014 Candace Morris 0 Comments

Unlike others before him
Errantly pursuing heart before head.

Via my mind did he win  my love.

Through discussions over coffee every Mon, Wed, and Fri morning.
Through challenging everything and everyone, motivated only by the earnest desire to learn.

Through wool sweaters and academia.
Through discussions of Bart, Kierkegaard, Pannenberg, Volf, Zizioulas.
Through his curiosity of my own love of Bronte and Shakespeare.
Through educating me on Ethiopian coffee and the french press method.

Through the quick learning of how to help me thrive but never suffocate or dominate.
Through chasing me down after Hermeneutics with Dr. Spawn to suggest an album I might like because he'd heard that I like electronica.
Through a beat-up Morcheeba CD. 

Through taking me to his home very early in our relationship.
Through the love of his parents and sisters.
Through Snoqualmie Falls and Ballard Locks and ferry trips to Bainbridge Island.

Through that hair.
Through his gift of allegory. 
Through his love of space and sky.
Through being a feminist before we were brave enough to label it as such.

Through those eyes, pure and unquestioning.
Through long drives.
Through the mix of surprising naivete and piercing wisdom
(he had not dated anyone before me).

Through that height.
Through arms so strong yet always wanting to be touched.
Through an openness I've never gotten to the bottom of.
Through the Orange Avenue apartment.

Through pipes.
Through games of chess.
Through a 1973 orange Dodge pickup with a hole in the floor.
Through Rush and ELO and Massive Attack and Debussy.

Through loving the ones I loved

Through introducing me to souls I'd long been curious about,
 knowing love cannot come from one source.
That we must diversify to survive.

Through a bookstore proposal.

He stood there, holding his hands out with all of these offerings,
and one more thing.

He told me he had no doubts about me
because I would always purse new ideas and chase down change.  
He was right.  
As Virginia Woolf says,
 "A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living.”

And changed we have.  I have.
And I often question and evaluate our love within that new change.
And thankfully, magically
that love has changed with us.
Many are not as lucky.

If we can learn to love the evolution of persons one human will journey through in this life,
then we need not fear the loss of love.

He found my deepest respect, continuing admiration, and intellectual vitality.
The way to my heart, as it so happens.

So we go on living.


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