Aaron spoils me. He makes breakfast for us every morning, gifting me with the delicious slowness of rising at will and listening to our neighborhood come awake.
This is blessing.
And sometimes the gift of it is difficult to bear.
How does one respond to such faithful love? I find that I want somehow to repay him, to reset some kind of balance, but something tells me that this is not the way of love. Love is not something to be repaid.
What I am sensing instead is a scarcity-driven impulse to balance the power this man's love has over me. To prove I can give as good as I get. That somehow I deserve his grace. God save me.
I must learn to receive without reciprocity, receive my partner's gift of love--his tenderness, service, thoughtfulness, creativity, silliness--in gratitude, full stop.
How the rush of it swamps me now! The gully wash strips away my cages and bars and fills me to bursting. To overflow.
To love in return means loosing the notion of balance, of payback. It is to deny power differentials and to admit when you have been swept away, swept up and carried to a new height because of someone else.
Not at your own behest or demand, but because he has loved you.
These words were first shared in a fit of expression on Instagram. Join me there if you are so inclined.