Mine Alone

I stand at the frosty window with my hand idly tracing circles in the condensation. I stare out into the dimming light and wait. He'll be here soon. My heart pounds wildly with anticipation. I see headlights turning the corner on our long street. My heart skips a beat. I hold my breath. His black truck crunches ice beneath its large tires. Dropping my hand I run toward the stairs and fling myself down them in record time. My hand touches the doorknob the second he knocks. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm the storm surge of butterflies in my stomach to no avail. I turn the knob and open the heavy wooden door. Before me stands the epitome of handsome. His dark five o'clock shadow had grown into more of a darker, short, fuzzy, layer of hair. The ink black locks that were so short last time we spoke have grown out a little and lay tousled on his head. His eyes are the same. An unwavering, icy, sea foam green. My very favorite color, since I met him anyway. I collapse into his arms the moment I lay eyes on him. His chin rests on my head and his arms engulf my body in warm embrace. I missed you. He whispers into my hair. I hum my agreement. When we at last reluctantly release each other, I gaze up into his eyes. My whole world stands in front of me and no matter what else happens, in this moment, I know I'm experiencing the true meaning of love. Weightless, joyous, overwhelming, all-encompassing love. And I've never been happier, because this love, this joy and this man are mine, and mine alone.