Honey Ham

He likes the same kind of ham as me. I ask him "honey ham or turkey" and he cuts me off before I even finish, calling "Honey!" from the other room as he helps my mom do something I didn't want to help with. I never thought that was something I wanted much less needed. Never thought of the little olives of what true love is supposed to mean. The way 'the one' is supposed to love olives while you hate them or the way they're supposed to hate pickles so you get to have two.

He likes the way I make sandwiches, just like I loved the way my dad made them. Before you meet the one you think of something like that and you think "man I need someone who makes great sandwiches like my dad, so that I’ll always have great sandwiches". Then you meet him and you realize you've been making great sandwiches your whole life, but you're now sharing them with him and watching him smile as he takes the best bite, and it makes you happy in a way that you never thought making a sandwich would make you happy. You think, "man I’m going to make him great sandwiches his whole life". It makes you think of how in the not so distant future you'll see that same smile on your sons lips and for a second you're there, watching a little boy that looks a lot like that one picture his mom showed you of him on his tenth birthday, sit across from you crumbs falling on a white plate. Then he goes back home and the next time you wander to the fridge and pick up the ham you'll think "he likes the same ham as me" and you'll smile and be thankful for all the sandwiches you had to make for yourself, and you'll be excited for all the sandwiches you'll make for him and your future kids. "Mom makes the best sandwiches" they'll say and I'll know I knew what they were thinking before they even thought of it 15 years ago.

Life in love is full of moments like those. Sometimes you don't think of them. Sometimes you just feel them and then they fade, leaving only wisps of warmth and infatuation that later you’ll recall and only wonder where they came from. But sometimes you get to really think of them and remember them. I have known love before but this is the first time I've loved like this. A love that manifests in the simple and mundane and makes philosophical realizations emerge from a second glance at ham. Honey Ham.

Sometimes I write beautiful things

 I wrote this poem. Its called Somebody. Its my favorite poem I've written so far and its one of the few poems I've written that isn't melancholy. 

There is a body among the trees and stars that craves your blush. 

There is a smile that craves your stories. 

Hands waiting to run through to run through the waves of your hair. 

There they will sink drowning in oceans of brown honey.

There is a body among the thunder of rolling clouds and squinting moons that thinks of you 

in the midst of torrents full of lonely and longing

They wait for you to wander into their meadow

You'll stop to admire tall grasses or the whisper of winds and there among the safety and calm they will find you

Ready, not to shield you, not to tug your hand along their own path but to trace the trips of mountain ridges and breath in soft afternoons. 

There is a body just a ways away waiting, watching the same fiery sunsets set a blaze with the last falling hopes of a love worth rising for. 

You'll find them. 

And when you do they'll love scars and curves of earth and flesh, and most of all they'll love you.