To the Person I Might Meet Someday

I don’t know your name yet. I don’t know if you like rain, or if you’ll sit with me while I watch it.

I’m not hoping for grand gestures. I’m hoping for something quieter: an ordinary Tuesday, two cups on the table, a conversation that doesn’t need to be careful.

I hope I won’t have to explain the parts of me that took the longest to understand. I hope you’ll just let them be there, the way you’d let the weather be there.

Until then, I’m learning to keep a good home for myself, so there will be somewhere warm for you to arrive.