A Self-Defined Hit of Hurricane

I woke up one Sunday morning to his face lying next to mine and I Wondered if this was really my life. He was like an angel, sleeping softly, eyes closed and arms draped around his face. Sometimes life shocks you and you forget its yours. Have you ever had that happen? Wake up with a stranger in your bed and realize its the love your life, not a stranger at all. Life has a way of knocking you on your knees and having you wish you were praying. He came into my life like a hurricane. Tore things up, rearranged things. He was not a bad hurricane, he lifted up roots that I had in the ground for far too long. He made me escape the only home I have ever known, the one I call my own snail shell. I never met a soul like him, so reckless, wild, passionate. Waking up to him has felt like a dream ever since, a dream I have yet to wake up from. So many days I sat next to him laughing until I cried, drinking until I threw up. Crying until I couldn't anymore. I guess that is what love is... or so that is what I am told. I have come to the conclusion that love is your own story to tell. Some people call fighting at two a.m. love and are happy with that, and to some being held during a candlelight dinner is love. Pick your poison... I sure picked mine and it was him. It was always him. Love chooses you I fear. Whatever messed up version of love that chooses you is just yours and there is no way of describing it any differently. Love is not for your choosing, you fall into it and come to the conclusion that its love. No one gets to describe that for you. I describe love as him, this angel, this soul firing man. I dont know what else to call him but just that. I dont want to say that I knew I loved him from the start or that when I first saw him, I knew. I did not get heart eyes when he walked into a room. I did not drool when I first saw him. I was curious about him sure, but no one can say that I was love struck, that cupids arrow hit me and that I knew then. I fear that love does not happen like that. It happens when you least expect it, when you are drowning in life, when it couldn't come at a worse time. It shows up and it knocks hard at your door and doesn't take no for an answer. Love fights for you. It fights tooth and nail and scratches at your back when you ignore it. It does not let you go, it grabs a hold of your heart and tugs until you give in. This is how I met him. This is how I fell in love four years later. Love is a battlefield like Cyndi Lauper said, but not quite the one she described. Love is a battlefield in the fact that it always. wins. I fought it for four years. I wanted nothing to do with needing it, with wanting it. I was blowing it off but it still showed up. Now here I am, every Sunday morning rolling over to this human that calls himself mine. That is the thing about love that I dont think people expect, its not always the expected. It is not under your control it is wild untamed and comes in all forms. I roll over to his face on Sunday mornings and I have never been more grateful in my life. I did not hunt for love, I did not wish for it every single day. I was terrified to care about another human being that much yet there he was. Love is not yours to define. It is its own element and it will find you when its ready. You cant have one definition for love, for its anyone's game but you can fall head first into what you think it is blindly and take the shot at it. What do you have to lose? Isn't that what we all want anyways, a self defined hit of hurricane? -M.D.L