At Sean's graduation in December, they had a really great speaker.

One thing she said has really stuck out in my mind. She said that twenty something years ago, their parents had learned what it meant to have their heart leave their body and walk around and trust that it would be okay. That when a child is born, they take their parents hearts and become a part of them. A part of them that they can't control and isn't quite understood on the part of the person they gave it to.

That simple statement made so much sense.

I understand why my mom would worry. Why she wanted to know where I was going, who I was going to be with, when I want to be home. And why when I walked down the aisle she was crying tears of joy, but also tears of loss.

Because now I've let my heart leave me and walk around outside of my body.

Maybe not in the same connection. I mean, if I had someone growing inside me for nine miserable months, it's obviously no where close to the relationship of man and wife. But in marriage, you choose that person. You can decide who you give your heart to. And if you choose wisely, you don't need to worry about them ever doing anything purposefully to hurt you. You don't always have that luxury with a child who has yet to understand what you feel.

But when it comes to hurting, the person you've given your heart to can do it without any control.

It's icy out. Sean got a call asking to come in to work third shift. I told him to go ahead and work half, 10p-2a, so we could still make it to church. But when I think about him driving home past 2a, my heart takes residence in my throat. It's all those little things. The things you can't control. The things that are other people's faults. Those things hurt my heart. They make me afraid. Because if I lost him, I would lose my heart. And if I lose my heart, my mother will lose hers as well.

And I didn't feel this when I first told Sean I loved him.

I loved him, yes. But not like this. I loved him with that mixture of puppy love, lust, excitement, and hope of what is to come. I love him now, with a little bit of those. I still get so excited to see him when he comes home or meets me for lunch at work. It makes me smile a little more. But my love for him is so much deeper. I still have that young, passionate love. But I think we both feel a deep companionship love. The kind I think you need to have in order to have a successful marriage. Because that's the love that let's a marriage last.

The question remains though. If I'm feeling this now. Just short of three years of Sean being my significant other. How much more will it be ten, twenty, fifty years from now?

And as exciting as that is, to be able to claim that we've experienced that kind of love, it scares me. It scares me that one of us will eventually be without that kind of love. And although that's a long way away, when my heart leaps into my throat on nights like this, sometimes my mind wanders to those thoughts.