inventing love

I am in my long shirt, leggings, and new thigh highs, like high school socks ungrown girls in their thirties get to wear. You come home and always take off that white shirt, the knot at the neck. You untie.

You look way down to the bottom of the pile, laundry for sure, and boys and tiny triangles cut with safety scissors, coupon trash mail, yesterday’s mascara. I am at the bottom, there, and you reach in to pull me out.

You reach in grabbing for the collection of little juice-box straws I might have connected together, for apartment scuba. You reach to rip them out of my mouth because you might think that’s how I like to breathe – through straws. Instead, you kiss a little color into my face.

Several dripping layers of white paint cover any who’ve come before us in the apartments, all the chairs  and short-term lovers slammed against the wall, the accidental history of hands in berries and jelly. We try to make it where no one can paint over this one.

The ghosts disguised as refrigerator hum and a clock’s tick-tock, we shoo them away by turning on the music. And then we paint the walls, and we get it everywhere. In the carpet, there are roses. And there is cursive, and there we prophecy about the future,

that we will always be together, cramped up in love; that it’s going to rain (always be bracing for rain)

– because at the bottom, in the straw-breathing days, we write out our tomorrows. How we kiss in the dark side of things is how we will invent new love. Again and again, how we reach into one another.

Eleven years in, I love you.

About me


The Need to Look In
October 10, 2013
on soul rest and how the dreams change
July 14, 2010
on travel and time
January 26, 2010
a reflection, a reminder
January 07, 2010
on communion, community, and imagination
March 01, 2009


Reply November 11, 2010

Dear Owners of our Apartment, this didn't really happen. It's a metaphor.

Our anniversary is this Saturday, and I was thinking about how "we fall in love" again and again. Yes. Love is a decision, but sometimes, too, it is a feeling. It's a feeling that I sure like, especially with Seth.

Reply November 11, 2010


Reply November 11, 2010

Your way of writing is three dimensional. The way you see things and describe them. It's like I not only get to see and smell a loaf of fresh baked homemade bread, but I get to taste it too. Thank you for sharing and opening yourself. Your love for your husband is really truly tangible and I am certain he is lucky to have you. ~Jessica

    Reply November 11, 2010

    Dear thesavingmom, Believe me. We've had some moments where he hasn't felt so lucky. I had one of those crying Mama meltdowns last night. Sheesh. I do really love him though.

Reply November 11, 2010

gonna have to go all southern here and say, dang that's good stuff. lovely and happy.

    Reply November 11, 2010

    Dear kendal,

    My aunt always says "thanks for loving me so good." It's only right to go all southern, if you ask me. Thank you, friend.

Southern Gal
Reply November 11, 2010

Happy Anniversary. May your love continue to grow deeper with each passing day.

    Reply November 11, 2010

    Dear Southern Gal, Thanks. I sure hope it does.

Kelly Sauer
Reply November 11, 2010

Girl, you are so flippin' romantic!

    Reply November 11, 2010

    Dear Kelly Sauer, This is funny because I've sort of been the opposite of romantic around these parts. Alas, that I could live out the words that start on a keypad.

Reply November 11, 2010

I am grateful now to have read both of you.

I am delighted for your 11 years,
and see a kiss, and mingled fingers,
40 years from now
lives intertwined through time
and loving moments held together
like apartment scuba straws

I will begin my blog on Monday, and would be beyond thrilled if both the bride and groom would take a peek.

Two blogs:

I am scared like you wouldn't believe. I still can't write like like somebody's bride. I alternate madly between champing at the bit and making a headlong dash back into the barn. Your words today, every day, both inspire me - and terrify me - because my words don't live at that altitude.

Happy anniversary to the bride and groom.

    Reply November 11, 2010

    Dear Craig, Of course we'll read. Thanks again for the encouragement.

in the hush of the moon
Reply November 11, 2010

love this, amber. brilliant writing.

Elizabeth @claritychaos
Reply November 11, 2010

your metaphors are not lost on me, girl. this is gorgeous. happy anniversary to you two.

Reply November 12, 2010

staring at the box here...
as usual.

genius with words you are. genius. Happy Anniversary .

Reply November 12, 2010

If I could say it half as well...

Happy Anniversary (a bit early, that is).


Danielle Smith
Reply November 14, 2010

How you manage to wrap your love in such brilliant words is truly beyond me - extraordinary. Happy Anniversary to two of my favorite people in the world - wishing you NOTHING but love and magic! xoxo

Reply November 15, 2010

Beautiful. Words like this give me hope and trust in an institution that I'm never sure fits us, and reminds us it expands and envelopes. xo

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