I Will Wait for Us

There is a life waiting for me, for us. A life I can feel in the spaces between my ribs, in the quiet moments when the world stills and I let myself dream. It is not extravagant, not loud—it is simple, soft, and ours. I can almost touch it, almost breathe it in. A life where we are far, far away, where the world outside does not matter, where there is no crowd, no noise, just blue water stretching endlessly before us, the trees swaying in slow rhythm, the warmth of home wrapped around us like a second skin.

I long for mornings where the first thing I hear is your voice, where the first thing I feel is the weight of your arm draped over me, holding me close like I am something you never want to let go of. I long for early morning teas, steam curling into the air, the sound of your laughter blending into the quiet hum of our home. I long for showers together, water cascading down our skin, the touch of your hands on my back, my fingers tracing the ridges of your spine as if memorizing you over and over again. I long for slow afternoons where time does not chase us, where the sun filters through the window, painting golden patterns on the floor as we sit side by side, lost in books, in each other, in the quiet understanding that nothing else in the world matters in that moment.

At night, I want to sit outside with you, wrapped in a blanket, watching the stars as they blink against the dark sky. I want to rest my head on your shoulder, listen to the sound of your heartbeat, let it remind me that I am home. I want to watch movies with you, curled up on the couch, your hand in mine, the flickering light from the screen illuminating the curve of your jaw, the way your lips move when you softly hum along to the soundtrack. I want the softness of your presence, the warmth of your body against mine, the comfort of knowing that this—this is our forever.

There is a part of me that only exists because of you. A part of me that feels softer, safer, because I have known your love. You are the quiet between my storms, the steady ground beneath my feet. There is nothing about you that is ordinary to me. Even the way you breathe feels like poetry. Even the way you look at me makes the world feel lighter. And that is why I don’t mind waiting.

Because I know that love like ours is not made overnight. It is built in the pauses, in the waiting, in the longing. It is built in the spaces between now and forever. And though the world may pull us apart for now, though distance may stretch its hands between us, I will wait.

I will wait for the mornings where I wake up to your sleepy voice mumbling my name. I will wait for the nights where your fingers will trace slow patterns on my skin before we fall asleep. I will wait for the home we will build together, for the love that will settle into its walls, for the scent of fresh coffee and vanilla lingering in the air. I will wait for the days where I no longer have to close my eyes to see you, because you will be right there, beside me, within reach.

I don’t know how long it will take. I don’t know how many more nights I will have to fall asleep alone, how many more mornings I will have to wake up with only the ghost of your presence beside me. But I know this:

No matter how long it takes, I will wait.

Because when we finally get there—when we finally get to that quiet, beautiful life we have imagined—it will be worth every second.