Craig and I had some romantic time yesterday. Afterward, he came back into the bedroom to find me laying with my hands clasped behind my head. Naturally, he giggled.
"What?" I asked. "What did I do now?"
"Nothing," he said, smiling.
""What? Out with it!" He came back to bed and we snuggled.
"You're in your macho mode."
"Is that a problem?" I ask. "What's so funny?"
"It's a part of you. But I know the real you. You're my Lally. You're the cutie snuggle bear who drops things in the kitchen and curses. They don't know the real you."
"You're the only one who does, Cozy."
Before, when we've talked, I've told him that while he doesn't hear my harder voices, they are a real part of what makes me the person that I am. For a time, those voices, which don't really live with me at home, but figure in my writing and in my work, could be disturbing to Craig. He is coming to understand that part of me a little more. What I haven't been able to articulate yet, but what I now realize, is one of the reasons I fell in love with Craig is because he's the only person on earth I can be the cutie snuggle bear with. For many years that tender and playful part of my personality was dormant and unused. Because of it, I was empty and achy inside. Craig's love gives that part of my soul life and brings me peace.
I love my Big Bear.