This is what I see

I see that you and I would be fantastic together. We'd have great kids, and our home would be cluttered, rambling, heaving. Chaotic, rollicking, and topsy turvy. Every single day. There would be great fights, great discussions, dramatic utterences and over the top make-up sessions, apologies and declarations of love.

There'd be curiosities, nick nacks and tid bits, and not of the gastronomic kind, scattered everywhere. Each piece will have its own story, history. Even the tea spoon will be quivering with passion, and something to tell.

Our kids will not know what hit them and where they landed and whats happening till they grow up and leave home. But they will have learnt a lot of survival skills, and to argue.. a lot.

There will be a mountain of books.. or mountains of books.. in every single room, including the garage and the bathroom.

There will never be a 'Hush, baby sleeping' sign for any of the kids. They would just learn to sleep inspite of the vibrations of chaos.

Friends would know they could leave the whole world behind them when they enter ours, for they can be what they want to be and then some more. Their kids would wish they were ours. Ours would look horrified at such a wish.
This, and some more, is what i see.

But what I don't see, I suppose, is that I keep thinking you are some one that I want you to be, but you are not that, not yet, and perhaps will never be, for you don't see what I see.

You don't see that constraints are like blankets. You throw them off when the sun shines through. You might like to snuggle under and snooze as long as you like, but eventually, you do throw them off, or should. Even if after, you have to wade through piercing cold to reach your bathrobe.