Half a Year

Today, Sam and I have been together dating for half a year. That sounds like a lot longer than it feels like. Life just goes by fast. One day I'm like "No," the next I'm like "Okay," and the next I'm like "Oh hey, six months."

I had an interesting idea for this post. I was going to post an except from a journal entry from each month we've been dating. But then I realized that I'm at college, and intentionally do not have my old journals with me. So I have to improvise with what I have with me.

April 4th, we talked about dating. We both wanted to. We both thought it was a bad idea at the time. But we knew if we didn't date, we'd just end up going out anyway under a different label. We figured it was better not to kid ourselves or those around us.

On April 9th, he asked my dad. I really didn't think he was going to. But, like, he did. So. Yeah. I was pretty happy. {I was also listening at the bottom of the stairs :3 By the way, Sam.}

April 10th, we went FBO XD Woo.

Then on April 14th I left for Italy for two weeks XD Aw.

May 12th was senior prom.

I don't really remember a lot about May XD I'm assuming nothing awesome happened. Correct me if I'm wrong, and forgive me if it was really important.

June 10th:
I picked a fluffy, white dandelion and held it out to him. He paused, totally still, and then in a lightning-fast motion, his head snapped out and his lips closed neatly around the dandelion fluff.

I was absolutely shocked. I let go of it and turned away, bursting into laughter. I walked away a few paces before turning back. He looked sheepishly pleased with himself. He made a little O with his mouth and blew out the seeds. It was awesome.

His audacious sense of irony is my favorite.

July 2nd:
We were sitting in the backyard a few weeks ago, watching it storm at night. The sky was gloriously angry, the wind powerfully beautiful. The trees loomed closer, showing their pale underbellies. They actually looked like they were advancing, Sam and I agreed.

“What if one of them falls?” I said, wondering without worry.

“Well, if I hear something crack,” he began in his confident, plain way. “I’m grabbing you and we’re running that way.” He pointed in the direction of the garden.

I nodded. “Okay.”

August 12th:
Sam got FRIED. Like the brightest sunburn I’ve ever seen. So we aloe’d him, all three of us. Sophie was super sympathetic; I kinda was, but at the same time, I felt mischievous. He lay on Sophie’s and my bed; we sat around him rubbing aloe on his back and blowing on it. I was drinking a bottle of water, and I suddenly had the terrible, cruel idea of, like, grinding the cap into his back. I totally would not have anyway, but Sam, facedown on the bed, said,

“Stephanie, I swear, do not scrape that cap on my back.”

He knows me too well :3

September 2nd:
Sunday was Matt's birthday party at the neighborhood pool. I was soooo sleepy at one point.  Just utterly exhausted.  Sam and I were in the clubhouse on the couch, Cass and Sarah in the comfy chairs facing it.  We were all talking.  Sam had his arm around me.  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.  He trailed his fingers gently along my forehead, temple, nose, cheek.  To my sleepy surprise, it felt nice, not unnerving.

"I feel like normally there's no way you'd let me do this," he said. "You must be reeeeally tired."

"Mhm," I mumbled.

I fell asleep.  Later Sarah told me that she tried to reach over and wake me up, but Sam shook his head and motioned her hand away, mouthing, "No, let her sleep."

But Cass said my name and woke me up.

October 8th:

Dear Sam,

People always try to define love. I used to think that was stupid. Like, it actually bothered me when I was little, and I got into an argument with my dad about how stupid it is that there are so many love songs out there.

I still think there are a ridiculous number of love songs, but defining love is interesting enough that I'm going to put aside my childish exasperation and give it a shot.

I think I love you, because I can show you my writing.
I think I love you, because my chest hurts when something bad happens to you.
I think I love yo,u because I'd rather read the dictionary with you than go skating with someone else.
I think I love you, because I can fall asleep in your arms.
I think I love you, because I can't stop myself from smiling when I see you.
I think I love you, because I pray for you every night.
I think I love you, because I have nothing to hide from you.
I think I love you, because you know my passwords.
I think I love you, because you have my back when I'm about to look like an idiot.

I think you love me, because you help me make the right choices.
I think you love me, because it bothers you when I'm treated inappropriately.
I think you love me, because you go to dances with me even though you hate them.
I think you love me, because you haven't given up on me.
I think you love me, because you're skipping band practice for our sixth-month.
I think you love me, because you call me when I'm upset.
I think you love me, because you want to do the right thing, even when it's hard.
I think you love me, because you listen to me.
I think you love me, because you went to seven Red Boxes to find "Horrible Bosses" for me.

I guess you can't really define love once and for all. Everyone feels love differently, shows love differently, judges love differently. But if I had to define it, I'd define it as this:

 "the freedom to feel secure in being yourself, knowing that the other person wants you to be as happy, healthy, and whole as you can be--even if that includes relentlessly mocking your parking skills"

~Stephanie