As a child, I would always worry. Worry about how I looked: was the dress I was wearing pretty enough? Did the shoes go with it? What about my hair? Was it in place, was I perfect? As a child, the idea of going out and getting dirty was like a Cardinal sin in my home. For I was a Pappas, which plainly stated, I had to be perfect. Oh sure, I had my moments of forgetfulness, but I was always reminded, in very quiet, very harsh tones, of my place. And so, as I matured, I always made sure to do nothing that would upset the delicate balance of my genteel southern, aristocratic upbringing. However, that all changed the moment I received her letter. The letter of one Dr. Janice Covington, which for whatever divine reason, led me to Macedonia. Led me, to her.

I say divine, because never in my whole life, have I been so drawn to someone. Her brashness, her strength, the sound of her voice, the way she smiles at me across a crowded room and most of all, her eyes. All the light I felt was missing from my life, shines in them. And even now, after all this time, my heart stirs with amazing flutters when she looks at me, with something much more than just simple physical desire, it's....a complete and thorough stirring of my soul. Her eyes envelope me in such a way that I feel complete and at peace, she sees into my very soul and takes nothing away. On the contrary, she adds to it, to me. Filling me with her courage, her strength, her wit, her charm and most importantly, her love.

I never thought I could love someone the way I love her. Never thought that I would know love at all. But I have found more than that, I have been given more than that. I have been given a friend, a partner, a lover, a soul mate, and an overwhelming, almost reverent understanding that my life is forever linked with hers. It is this last that allowed me to completely surrender to her. Not because I didn't love her, but because I worried that I would not be good enough for her.

Janice erases all the worries from my mind. In her eyes I am not only good enough, I'm perfect. It made me laugh when she first told me this, but now, I see her point. I alone am not perfect but somehow, when I'm with her, I feel covered in an aura of perfection. Not the social definition of the word, but a more private, almost primitive meaning shared between two who really love each other. Because we accept each other for who we are and love each other no matter what, it makes our lives perfect. And it is so much a better version than the one that I was striving to achieve as an awkward child, that mere words can hardly express.

So I lay here, taking in the slumbering form of the love of my lifetimes. Her hair a golden halo in the moonlight and her strong arms folded under her chin. Seeing her like this, I am again reminded by how much she means to me. For my place is here, with the woman I love beside me and I beside her for eternity, just as it was, is, and will always be.