hiding.

That word often has such fearful and ulterior motives behind it. But not this day. Not this last week. Not these past two weeks. I've been hiding and protecting. This funny, unexpected, rare little bit of what I remember to be myself. Brought out in a whirlwind of quiet dinners, trashed hotel rooms, flowers, notes, fried turkey, leaf raking, and whispering. Escaping from the world to fall into this. Hiding also just a bit from the world to keep this safe. Hiding from the weight of it until I was ready to bear it. Now? I'm in.