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Looking Forward
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Sometimes the need to write is a physical sensation. A sort of upwelling in the chest, a sort of energization of the limbs, a tingle, a yearning, a thrum. I've got that, now, during a time when I've got less time than ever to write. I want to create epics and compose perfect little gems of story.

I'm looking forward to the wedding, but this run-up in the last two weeks is very busy, lots of last-minute things to decide, lots of stuff to do, from making centerpieces to creating wedding favors (we hope to make a tiny little book of love poems for each guest, though I reserve the right to fail in the attempt; if I can do it this weekend, it'll get done, if not, perhaps not).

I've got projects stacking up for the months after the wedding, too. I want to revise Blood Engines, finish a draft of In the Light of a Better World, make a dedicated Rangergirl website (that's probably the first post-marriage writing-related priority). I need to write a couple of stories, and there are a couple of people I'd like to collaborate with. I'm very excited about all these things! I'm generally looking forward to settling in for winter, with mugs of hot tea and goblets of red wine; looking forward to making great extravagant pots of chili, listening to rain on the windows, curling up with Heather under mounded blankets. Being productive. In summer, I like to play. I tend, these past few years, to get more work done in the winter, especially in the early part of a new year.

Now everything seems alive with possibility. I'm embarking on a new part of my life, the married part, and I like new beginnings, even symbolic ones (maybe especially symbolic ones; you don't have to rent a truck or carry quite so many moving boxes when you go on a symbolic journey). So I'm looking ahead at two weeks of busy-ness, culminating in a day of love and friendship and celebration, and then a time of rich, splendid actuality and even greater potential.

I'm looking forward to writing my wedding vows. I, who wear no jewelry at all, am looking forward to wearing my white gold wedding band, turning it around on my finger, looking at it and thinking of Heather. I'm looking forward to making a little book of love poems. I'm looking forward to our honeymoon. To dancing at our wedding. To feeding her wedding cake. I'm looking forward to being with her for the rest of my life.

Last night we cooked together, made spaghetti carbonara (Heather was dubious, but found it delicious), and we talked in the kitchen, and moved around each other in that narrow space, and I was struck all over again at how fortunate I am to have found someone who fits me so well, who complements me psychologically, artistically, sexually, philosophically. At our best, we fire on all cylinders, we anticipate one another, we care for one another. We do little things to ease the other's passage through life. And, the older I get, the more I realize that life is predominantly a collection of little things. Enough good little things make a good day; enough bad little things make a bad one. There are big events that serve as markers in your life (and I've had my share of those, too), but you get only one or two or three or none of those a year, while the little things make up the texture of your days. Heather makes that texture so much more wonderful than it would otherwise be. I'm a lucky man.



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