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415 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 7, 2021
I can’t stop the tender shoots and slender, seeking roots of him, and I am his garden, his soil, his place, and it would be wonderful if I wasn’t supposed to be the garden of my god instead.
Aiden,” he says softly, and I relish hearing my secular name from him, because it was the name that belonged to him, to his lips and thoughts and even his fingers when he was scolding or flirting over text or email.
“You’re so beautiful. It’s like you’re so beautiful for me, just for me,”
"And anyway, I already love him like how forever feels. I already love him like eternity is in the rearview mirror. I love him like everything."
I keep asking myself what I want. What I want from this, knowing that it will end, and it will hurt more than the first time it ended— […] and as I write this under the shade of an old oak tree, I can watch a shirtless Aiden move through the rows of lavender as he harvests the lavender flowers with the other monks.
I think I could watch him forever, simply watch him be a monk. The work, the prayer, the singing, the silence.
Maybe I don’t understand, maybe I’ll never understand, but when I watch him, it feels like I don’t have to. It feels like simply being with him is enough.