Cupid's Arrow

Joe and I had many evening walks and quite a few of them ended up in a nearby park.  It was a fantastic park, in the middle of town, where you could get lost for hours.

It had recently snowed (and being in the middle of a snow-belt meant that we had received more than our fair share of the white stuff).  As we were walking through the park, we reached a hill.  It was very tempting to log-roll down the hill and I expressed this to Joe.  He disagreed.

"Well", I said, "have you ever log-rolled down a hill before?".  He hadn't.  As we were both fairly competitive in nature, we made a bet.  We would see who could log-roll down the hill the furthest (without rolling into the small lake).  The winner would be treated to a fabulous dinner by the loser.

And off we went.  As I was rolling away, I realized that it wasn't just anyone that I could log-roll down a hill with.  That I could laugh so much with, be myself with, tell anything to.  It was crystal clear.  For the first time, I realized that these last few months, when I was with Joe, I thought of nothing but Joe.  I was in love!!

I had no clue how to express this to Joe.  I didn't want to be the first to say it.  What if he didn't love me back?  What if he wasn't ready to say it?  What if I was just imagining the feelings because I had no idea what I was talking about?

So, I resorted to cheesy emails.  "To my sweet little cinnamon heart" (or something similar) is how they all began.  I didn't know what to write?!

Eventually, I wrote a long email explaining how I felt but being careful to not use the three key words.  I told him that I loved hanging out with him.  That it was amazing and fantastic and easy.  The email was spiralling downhill on a scale of cheese and mush.  It was brutal.  Finally, I ended with "I have fallen...and if I have fallen before you, I will be here to catch you and walk beside you...".

He came over for dinner soon after I sent that email.  Things were a bit awkward as I didn't know if he had read the email and was ignoring it or if he simply hadn't had time to read it.  Eager to know how he felt, I said he could "check his email" as I made dinner.  I was practically standing over him (while dinner was likely burning) as he read the email.  He closed it and logged off.  No response.  'Great', I thought, 'he doesn't feel the same way'.  As I tried to quietly sneak back into the kitchen, he grabbed my arm and sat me down on the couch.  He could see that I was a bit disappointed.  "No response?", I asked.  He looked me in the eyes, held me close and said, "Anika, I love you!".