She Makes Me Laugh

She makes me laugh. We tease each other and pretend to compete for who loves whom more, until we get to the "I love you a bagillion +1 x infinity" and I weakly concede to her superior superlatives and she is triumphant and says "Yippee! I win!"

We are silly and giddy and thrilled to be happy with each other. To be happy knowing how unlikely we are, unlikely because we are separated by geography, unlikely because we have had such different lives, unlikely in so many ways, until those radically different paths led us to the same place, that one unlikely chance meeting and the start of all of this.

I have forgotten how much fun it is to laugh with your lover. How remarkable it is to hear so much in a laugh, to be able to differentiate the laughs of a single person, to hear thrill and joy in another person's voice. And to be able to find it again in my own.

We are planning to meet in a month. Before I go home to New England. I will stop and see her on one of the many legs of my truncated flight. We are planning to meet, to have her take me to her home, to talk, to laugh, to kiss, to share, to make love, to fuck. To consummate our promise to each other to honor this unexpected and unlikely and miraculous love.