Nov 2014
mnyamata
I saw Big Hero 6 with you tonight.
I love going to children's movies. They're always funny and I always love hearing the little laughing voices.
I love hearing you laugh too.
And that short movie before, the one about the dog, when the couple gets married at the end, you know I thought about you.
I had that feeling in my stomach like I'm going to explode or melt like magma, the feeling I always get when I really understand what it would mean to marry you. It's a terrifying high like nothing I've ever experienced. It's an intense kind of beauty that only God could design.
I guess that's what love feels like. At it's most potent. And maybe you believe that things like romantic movies and weddings give me a high that I ride for days in a sort of idealistic stupor, but the truth is, moments like those and like this, just reveal what I always feel about you. They remind me of what love really is.
It feels like you'll explode or melt into magma and all you can do is stare in fear and wonder at the face of your forever and try to keep yourself from kissing him because you're in a movie theater full of children, so you just lay your head on his shoulder and dam up the tears behind your eyes because you cry too much anyway, especially when you're happy, and you have a lot of happy crying to save up for in the future.
The little girl behind us made me think of Keasbey. Her unintentionally loud voice, with the little slur that all toddlers have.
She has so many questions. I can't wait to answer them.
I can't wait to hear you answer them. You'll tell her about wind harvesters and sky farms and the patriarchy and you'll always tell her how beautiful she is and that she's never allowed to fall in love because you don't want your little girl to melt like magma.
And she'll have your warm cheeks and our curly hair. And she will be so beautiful. And she will laugh so much. And she will smile. And you and I will explode.
Or maybe melt like magma.
ndimakukonda
(the both of you)
I saw Big Hero 6 with you tonight.
I love going to children's movies. They're always funny and I always love hearing the little laughing voices.
I love hearing you laugh too.
And that short movie before, the one about the dog, when the couple gets married at the end, you know I thought about you.
I had that feeling in my stomach like I'm going to explode or melt like magma, the feeling I always get when I really understand what it would mean to marry you. It's a terrifying high like nothing I've ever experienced. It's an intense kind of beauty that only God could design.
I guess that's what love feels like. At it's most potent. And maybe you believe that things like romantic movies and weddings give me a high that I ride for days in a sort of idealistic stupor, but the truth is, moments like those and like this, just reveal what I always feel about you. They remind me of what love really is.
It feels like you'll explode or melt into magma and all you can do is stare in fear and wonder at the face of your forever and try to keep yourself from kissing him because you're in a movie theater full of children, so you just lay your head on his shoulder and dam up the tears behind your eyes because you cry too much anyway, especially when you're happy, and you have a lot of happy crying to save up for in the future.
The little girl behind us made me think of Keasbey. Her unintentionally loud voice, with the little slur that all toddlers have.
She has so many questions. I can't wait to answer them.
I can't wait to hear you answer them. You'll tell her about wind harvesters and sky farms and the patriarchy and you'll always tell her how beautiful she is and that she's never allowed to fall in love because you don't want your little girl to melt like magma.
And she'll have your warm cheeks and our curly hair. And she will be so beautiful. And she will laugh so much. And she will smile. And you and I will explode.
Or maybe melt like magma.
ndimakukonda
(the both of you)
