When my love and I began to dream of a life together, a life of waking up every morning to each other’s sleepy eyes, we spoke of having open arms and open doors.
As we spun our dreams into shape, we dreamed of a home of peaceful chaos. Raucous gatherings that stretched into the midnight hours, of opening up our hearts to strangers, of laughter and food that never ended. Flowing wine and flowing words; of stories being told underneath starry skies. We imagined friends that spent so much time within our walls that they somehow became of a part of them.
We wanted weary feet to somehow find their way to our doorstop so they could find rest. We wanted love to burn so brightly at our house that people gathered there as moths to a flame.
Being a romantic, there is a tendency within my heart to imagine something so utterly beautiful that reality can never comply to it.
But I will say, this night was the closest to that dream I have ever been.
People I had never known were sitting at my table and eating my food. Small couplings of people were scattered about the apartment. The only lull in the conversation is when we were too concentrated on the game Boggle to say anything at all. Old friends gathered and new friends were made.
Nothing hurried, nothing rushed. Just riotous peace.
There was a glow in the room that has filled up my heart to the brim and I still feel the aftermath of it; like the scarlet remnants of a roaring fire.
And when I met the eyes of my love across the room, we knew….this was the prelude of our dream.