You tire of people.  I know this because you’ve told me.  You’ve complained about hanging out with people for too long a period of time.  You get bored of things.  So I was nervous, because an entire day with me?  With just me?  Recipe for almost-sure disaster.

We made plans.  For the first time ever, we made plans together.  Alone plans.  And I know it wasn’t a date, but still, it was a date.  The kind of date you have with friends you hope to never be without.  Outside of all my crazy thoughts where I imagine that you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you, I treasure the fact that you’re in my life.

2.5 hours one-way.  Which means we had to meet up early.  Earlier than I like to be anywhere.  Earlier than you like to be anywhere.  But we did it, we were both on time, and you were sweet enough to buy me coffee.

Funny, unrelated, coffee story:  I had a meeting with the ex a few weeks ago.  We stopped for coffee and I ran in to get it because the drive-through was clogged.  I returned with coffee and sugar.  Except he doesn’t take sugar, and he knows you do.  He said he’d keep it in the car for the next time you’re there, having coffee with him.  I’m sure he was annoyed.

Back to my story.  You took me up on that mountain.  You forced me to do runs I never would have tried.  You let me rest.  You never made me feel shitty for all the falling.  You pushed me harder when I was ready to give up.  You don’t know what it means to me, you can’t know, because you didn’t mean it at all in the way that I felt it, but to know that you believed that I could take those runs, with the trees and the steepness, and the face full of snow, I’ve never had a man believe in me that way.  Not just say he believes, because we both know you’d never say it, but show me.  That’s seriously hot.

You’d be so embarrassed if you know about this.  That these words, this love letter, is floating out there on the internet.  The gushing.  I’m not one of those people, except apparently I am.

Basically the day was perfect.  We had fun.  We laughed.  Root beer may have come out my nose at one point.  I never once thought about the fact that it’s Christmas and I’m 33 and how did my life end up here, single, mom, alone.  Because I wasn’t alone.  You took care of me, in ways you will probably never know.  I’ve never stayed on the hill for that long, gone on so many ski lifts, boarded through so many trees, had my pants so full of ice.  I’ve never had so much fun working so hard.

And at the end of the day we went home.  And I don’t think you were sick of me, after twelve hours together, because really, if you were, you wouldn’t have texted, called, IM’d.  Not in a creepy, possessive way.  Not in a “hey what are you doing?” way, but just everyday stuff, because that’s what we do.  Even after an entire day together, we still have everyday stuff to talk about.

I drive myself mad thinking about you and your intentions, but when I really think about it, I’m happy with this.  I like this.  This is really all I am rationally able to give.

I’m thankful.  This Christmas, I am blessed and thankful.