Freeman Flies Out

Leave.

It's finally here--the day I've waited for. I will be in the arms of my wife within days. DAYS. The joy this gives me goes beyond words.

My other half, my better half, my best friend, my lover. Anne, the name of a healing saint, and in her a saint I've found. I will fly out from here. I will leave this place, for a time, and though I may only write sporadically, do not fear, for write I will. And when I do write, the face that stares into the screen--the fingers which type the strokes--will reflect a visage that, however briefly, matches the mind within.

I will hike the Alps. I will enjoy music. I will etch ink into my skin. I will sing, and I will laugh. I will enjoy all-night conversations with friends over dark German beer. I will make love to my wife. I wil savor our tongues mingling. I will bask in the "glowing static burn" (her words) as our bodies press together. I will do all these things, and more, and as I do them I will thank every God that possibly exists, for am I back by her side.

I am to be back with Anne, and I am grateful.

I am grateful to the point of tears.

[For those wanting more of substance; read the post below. My first three-post day, fellow readers. Enjoy. --M.]