I learned your name. It was new, it was yesterday. It was newness on my tongue. I couldn’t stop repeating the syllables, the first and the second. And yet I’ve still to learn the last! The name that could be mine someday; could be ours, in fact.
So I practice and practice…
You’re the first of you that I’ve met but I’m excited for the unknown, happy to say your name in all its new, mysterious glory and to be surprised as it falls from my mouth a little easier each time.
I’m excited to get familiar, to know the origin and the final destination, the in between bits, the tips of the mountaintops, the heart of the valley.
I’d become so desperate for names yesterday, hearing yours was enough to make me cry; cry friendly, blissful tears out of desperation like on the first day of Spring- the day so deeply buried beneath a far off familiarity that it’s like new again, like being born again and breathing on your own for the first time again; the air so sharp and sweet and warm it makes you cry.
All you want to do is cry and be overcome by joy and be present and be happy;
happy to meet you, happy to be new again.