On the sense of continuity

I must admit that I keep hoping for it all to be the same when I am back. Or actually, better. I keep imagining little flashes of routine, you frying something in the kitchen the smell of melting butter and the shhhhh it makes when hot, wearing a shirt that's too big for you while the sun comes in through a window. Me decorating our new apartment putting flowers everywhere and buying tablecloth and pillow covers, me worrying about all the little details like bed linen and the color of the cups. As you say, killing it with kindness, being a control freak in the sweetest way, saying you can buy all the kitchenware you want but only in this specific color, babe, otherwise it doesn't fit the plates. 

I must admit that I make plans. Of all the beautiful things I could bring from all my trips, of sleeping and waking up by your side, even the fights we'd have over how many times your friend comes over for lunch doesn't she have a job if she keeps eating our food might as well help with the expenses honey I just want this space to be for us, you know? I look forward to even that. 

And making concrete plans for once in life, saving to buy a washing machine and an electric rice pan, love, we need a new bowl the other one is too little and it spills when I mix ingredients, honey who's cleaning the living room this week? 

I wonder and hope for all the snippets of day to day life we will have together and all that we could make this shared space and shared life, shared bed shared plans kisses and movies and books, shared time. And sometimes I think about how hard it would be to let go once we got there, once we reach this stage of things how terribly heartbreaking to have an empty space where before another person and all of her possessions lay, and I don't want to consider the possibility of anything going wrong because I don't want it to be true, it's too much to think of and I shake my head in disbelief dissipating all the thoughts that give us anything but a happy ending.

I want to continue what is already working so beautifully. Honestly, my expectations want a lot of things to remain the same. Somehow, they want the heat in your lips to remain, the warmth of your hugs, the joyful giggle when I kiss your neck repeatedly. The feeling of calmness when I see you. I want six months to not change what is good, but to spice up that longing that will eat up our chests and make them explode, like New Year's fireworks, in your heart and mine, when we meet again.