Something I have been wanting to do for a while is write down our story. This will not be in the ‘right’ order, but should make sense both as a series and as individual posts. I might ask her to write some too, so that you get it from both perspectives. Telling stories is important.
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Just Friends Part 1
Love, we matter. I don’t know how else I can say it. Who we are, what we do, together. We matter.
A friend of yours is coming to visit.
We have been together what seems like a long time, our lives intertwining; sometimes beautifully, sometimes painfully. We have a little house which we pay for together by scraping together my student loan and your minimum wage salary. We save up and go away together – the Yorkshire Moors, Northumberland or the Lake District. You make me go hiking and I make you rest afterwards. We have ended up with a little, spiky, scared kitten that turned into a big soft lump of a cat. You are growing cucumbers in our living room, which block out most of the window so that the light that filters through all summer is green. I remember this detail in particular.
We sleep in the same bed, comfortably. We are done with being anxious about this. You and I know how to curl up around each other. You bring me coffee in the mornings and sometimes in the evenings we read out loud to each other; somehow such an intimate sharing. We have made a home, finally.
But a friend of yours is coming to visit. A Christian friend. A friend from the past. Yours, not mine. She knows about us, and I can’t help feeling she has judged us accordingly.