which is now a space we share, that she shares with me, and I feel so much, tonight and so many other times.

How is this happening to me?  How am I this lucky, and why at this point in the story.  No complaints, just what’s on my mind, what swims through my synaptic sea currently.

She messages me sweet words, over and over and every time landing with different and more pronounced and connective intensity.

I feel like she is all I should be writing about.  About US…. Our story.  Our love story, but it’s more than love.  Like Poe said, a love that’s more than love.  That word does not relay the reality of what I feel for this Nurse – this GODDESS that has chosen me.

And Me, this writer, tonight and always but more now, right now than any other time, in a spell and cloud of compounded disbelief…

When she walked across the street to greet me, night of our first date, my first three words to here were “Is that you?”

The meaning to that, now realized.  Compounded and ethereal, mystic, postmodern, and obvious.

Love.HER.