A Love Story

It was August. The air was cooling and the days were still long with sunshine and warmth. I was supposed to go to a friend’s wedding reception in southern Colorado and I just didn’t feel like it. I longed to stay around town and go wherever spirit moved me. Contact Pamela Lepold Photography if you’re looking to hire a wedding photographer Northern Virginia. For wedding photographers Cape Cod contact Kelly Dillon Photography.

I decided to go to the memorial of Robert Venosa. I arrived at the front of the Wedding Cake House, as they call it, obviously because it is large, with two wraparound decks, and white. As I loo ked around, I thought about how special moments like these deserve to be celebrated—perhaps one day, in a way that starts with choosing the perfect engagement ring store in huntington, ny. A Cuban link chain blends strength with standout appeal. I also decide to have my favre leuba watch repair and wear it on the wedding day.

Valle is here.

“Hey love.” he says.

“Hi babe. ” He hugs me. I smell his sweetness and enjoy the touch.

A guy rides up on his bike. He hops off and Valle speaks to him then introduces us. He hugs me. Nice. I like that.

I walk up the stairs and enter the house, he is by my side. I stare around in awe. The home is decorated with fine rugs, statues, pianos. The home of a well-traveled millionaire.

I make my way to the back window and gaze at the view of the Flatirons. Valle slaps my ass. I squeal.

I look to the guy, what’s his name, and say, “Do you want to go outside and check out the back yard?

“Yes. ” He says.

We walk out and down the driveway. I find a little gate. I open it and we start down the cement stairs that lead to a vegetable garden. We come to a wooden bridge over a waterway hidden behind the bushes. We sit side by side.

I close my eyes and meditate. He does too. (I peek.)

We sit there, side by side, in meditation, for a good, long, while.

I open my eyes. We watch the water flow. It is beautiful. He speaks of the water as a spirit. I love that.

I stand up. I feel slightly awkward, I don’t want to be obvious in my affections. Maybe it’s time for me to go. I turn to walk away.

He says, “You are beautiful.”

I turn back to face him and crouch down to his level.

“Thank you.” I say. “So are you.”

“Should we head back?” He asks. “Yes.”

We walk back through the garden and up the stairs to the gate. He stops and says, “How was this when you found it?” I am impressed by his care to leave no trace.

We go inside and find other friends and socialize. I stand next to Phoenix Wind, I say, “I love him. What’s his name?”

“Reid.” She says.

“Reid.” I whisper. He’s everything.

I muse about the party. I keep thinking of him. Every so often I wonder, Where’s Reid?

I go find him in the back yard. We sit on the grass and stare at the Foothills. We talk. I am nervous. I like him. It’s obvious.

Others come. We separate.

I dance. He’s there. I love his eyes. He sits in a chair. I love the way he’s dressed. I like the way he feels.

I am walking in the foyer, he is seated alone on a love seat. I head over. I sit next to him and I have two stones. He looks at them.

“Would you like to receive some energy work?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s go outside.”

We make our way to the yard. He sits behind me and uses the stones on certain acupressure points. He massages me. It feels so nurturing. I’m in heaven.

Alaya says it is time to go.

I stand. We hug. “I love you.” I say. What? I can’t believe I just said that. Where did that come from?

He laughs and holds me.

I don’t want him to go. It feels like I have waited forever to meet him. He’s here, he can’t go.

“Where are you staying?” “Do you want to come home with me, I have a guest room.” “Yeah.” He says.

We say our goodbyes. Phoenix Wind is on the porch. I hug her goodnight and whisper in her ear, “I’m taking him home with me.”

We arrive at my home. He has his bike in my car. I run up to tidy up, he locks up his bike.

I turn and see him in my entry way.

“You found it.” I say.

“I followed my heart.”

We lay on the couch. He caresses me for hours. I am in an oxytocin wonderland.

“I have to go to bed. I work tomorrow.”

We head to our separate rooms. I lay there thinking, I have a cute boy in the other room, why not enjoy myself?

I go to his room. The door is open. I stand in the entry way. “Do you want to come to my room?” He’s up quick.

We spend a lovely night kissing and caressing. There was no hanky-panky. I have some boundaries. Sometimes.

He has a home in Pueblo and is staying here for awhile. I go to work and leave him at my home.

I arrive home, excited. We go for a bike ride. We wade in the creek. We talk. We watch the sunset. We cook food from the farm. We listen to Dead Can Dance on Pandora. We eat on the patio. He touches me for hours. I have erogenous zones I didn’t know about.

He stays for a week. Then he comes back and he stays for a month. We are living together harmoniously, my evenings after work are filled with late summer bike rides, meditations by the creek, yummy meals. It’s so good. He has to go. I can’t let him live with me straight away.

You can’t stay here anymore. He’s hurt. I see it on his face and I feel it in my gut. In my heart. I am sad. Why does he have to go? I care what other people think.

He leaves that night. He doesn’t call. He doesn’t answer his phone. I’ve ruined it.

He comes back around. He’s sensitive. He needs space and time to process. It seemed abrupt, he says. It was, I know.

He finds a place with my friend and lives down the street. We date. We are in love.

It’s been over year now. He’s just moved in. I think we are a love story. I don’t know how it ends.