Listening to the rain on Thursday night in Tally-ho

I brought one of my two sailor's hearts with me, planning on deciding on Saturday whether or not I want to give it to her. Sailor's hearts are big seeds that wash up in the Keys, the Gulf Stream having brought them from South America and Africa. There is a story we tell Scouts on the island about them, a legend, but I kinda like to leave it at "you give them to your woman," although I think my meaning for 'woman' in that sense probably carries more weight than any fourteen year-old's. I knew that I would feel about ten times more sure of giving it to her when I got down here, was with her. And I worried about that, the way it seems like two different parts of me who don't agree on everything the relationship represents. I've been drunk for a great deal of the time I've spent with her, and we've had a lot of sex, and my conscience wants me to know that these are not conventional pillars of a meaningful relationship. But talking to her after we saw each other in Iowa, things started to sound better and better, really f*cking better. I got into a bit of a slump, then, mid-semester, had nothing to talk to her about, nothing to talk to myself about-became a body going to classes, brain running at about 25% capacity (and yet, got 4 A's and a B, even one A+ --oh, Pitt Johnstown, you are a bad joke). But now...goddamn. It has occurred to me once or twice in the past 48 hrs or so that I have to go home and go to Pitt and take 18 credits soon, but that seems hard to believe. Especially lying in a field on a blanket, eating a wonderfully organic sandwich with some wine, laughing and telling her about my family's wild shit, "Angi was a beautiful pregnant girl riding through the shitty neighborhoods of Cherry Hill NJ in an ice cream truck." She told me that that was the sexiest she had seen me, talking about my family. The girl has had so much for us to do-even if, as we talked about today, we can't really tell most people what we've been spending the first half of the days doing. Some shitty part of me is saying "just because you're doing fun things in Tallahassee doesn't mean that she is your queen." But shit, son. She is so much more perceptive and intelligent when I engage her in the endless, pointless commentary that runs through my brain. And she loves it! I was worried my never-ending comparisons of the South and PA would be getting annoying, but she said today she loves it! I mean, coffee set up in the front of the supermarket, just there, free? In case you want some while you shop, she says, common sensically. And how goddamned sensical it is.
Meeting her parents and family just makes me like her a lot more-something seems so goddamn wholesome about this girl who recently played secretary to my bossman. They all hug and kiss each other when they come and go, even within a couple hours time of the last time. She drives stick. She misses driving the little Toyota truck. Her dad calls while we are at the park, scolding her for taking the truck, which doesn't have plates on it. Then he shifts, "I don't care, you know, I just don't want you to get caught. If you see a cop, make sure you let him go, don't have him behind you." The other day, her mom called back after a quick convo, to say she was sorry, she didn't mean to sound like she was_____. This is a family where feelings are important, where they are not neglected for even a minute.
We have some small things that we laugh about together, and it is so nice, things that others might not get. I remember my aunt or some older woman, talking about someone's girlfriend, "she can cook, hang on to her." And I thought, are you kidding? I mean, sure, that's great, she can cook, but how about love? Do you like the girl? Today I was thinking, that school of thought is not terribly misguided, though. I mean, you want a girl you can be around (Corry-"You want a girl you can fart in front of") . Of course you want the passion, too. It seems I have found both. The passion is definitely there, and she is definitely full of wonderful surprises-she makes sushi, for example. How the f*ck does she know how to make sushi? I am currently plotting to send her roommate a facebook message in an attempt to scheme to get her the sushi set we saw at the hippy store Sunday. "Something she can show people," (another pail from the cool wellspring of Corry's wisdom of all topics women). If you love something, set it free. (somebody else said that). It worked. She is the Vivien Leigh to the Clark Gable I wasn't sure I had in me. She is my nature woman. Another person on this planet who has gone down her fair share of shitty roads, looking for something she knew was...somewhere? I should dream to be so lucky as to have found her.