Rock Star Meets Super Model

That's how we see each other. He is my rock star (technically not one, though he could be, he is so freakin talented), I am his super model (really seriously technically not one).  But that's how we see each other, and we are slowly getting used to the reality of us, us in the here and now. Who we are.  Who we were.  And Us.  Right Now.  Next week....

We have these amazing moments that I can't describe, when we hold on to each other and touch by our foreheads, only, and...there is no need for words nor action, there is simply: .........everything...........

We've had date night #7.  Cooking in.  I had to be at my shop for a couple hours, shortly after he came down for the day.  He had said to me numerous times during the week, knowing that I would be busy, and needed some help (my bad wrist was being aweful)  "I am yours, leave your chores to me".  We had a breif moment before I needed to go to work, and he re-iterated:" I AM YOURS.  Tell me what you need help with and I will do it".  I thought of all the help I needed...raking the front lawn, weeding the patio, washing dishes...anything that needed being done and my bad wrist fought against...he said he would do.

He washed the dishes I was afraid to deal with, all week long (except for one batch that I actually had to wash because I was running out of room), due to my wrist/hand problems, in no time. I could have had him stuck at my house, picking up sticks in my yard and moving patio furniture...instead, I encouraged him to go on to one of the local bars showing his football game, to have a beer, some lunch.  Happily.  But then....heheheheh...those couple hours go by...I knew the ladies of the bead club would be curious, and we knew one of them needed some muscle moving some things out of her car and into the shop (really heavy craft fair tent and tables)...and there he was...my man.  My Steve. And he delivered, and carried, and smiled, quietly and sweetly.

Helpful as ever.  Then we go to the grocery store, get the makings for dinner, and he cooks like a master.  Swoon.  Excellent meal.  But then he's tired, must hit the road early.  I bite back the sadness of his leaving....me...for another week on my own....how can I possibly deal with this???????

And I carry on til next Sunday.  When we will be us again.

Shall I swoon once more?  Yes please.  And I must continue to carry on...with newfound vigor.
If only...if only every day could be like Sundays...if only...but they can't....So I carry on....and he will make me swoon, and I will be happy....and then another Sunday will end and another will come again....and I will still be happy...but wishing for another week to pass.....for the next one, and the next and the next...

and our hands will touch, then our eyes, and the rest of the world will cease to exist.

I discovered this song tonight, bya young singer who knows no better than we:  http://youtu.be/ruyaKdPfTN4