It’s getting close to 10:30pm.
The house is still and quiet, our oldest daughter is in bed asleep and our littlest one is cradled in my arms calm and restful.
There are no phones, computers, movies, or music going— only the dim hum of the refrigerator and the crickets in harmony outside.
Here it’s just us. You sitting on the sofa, I nestled in close beside your warm, tired body. Together we sit. There is no need for conversation in these moments, only the need to get just a little bit closer, to snuggle in a tiny bit more.
In the space of just a few minutes an eternity will pass by. In this space I let go of my thoughts, the whirling in my head calms and I am falling asleep in a field of wildflowers.
You, my love.
How did we get here? How did I find you, you find me?
When did the love grow so big that it consumed us both? Turning each of our root systems into one inseparable organism that is somehow at once individual and forever intertwined.
Maybe it happened as soon as I met you, that day you caught my eye and I caught yours, and we both smiled like shy teenagers. At least that’s when it all began.
After a few minutes, which feel like ages, you get up, kiss the baby and then me, tell me not to stay up too late and to come to bed soon (as you do every time), and then you head to bed. There is another early morning and long day of work ahead of you.
Life is complicated, hard, as we climb up this mountain together right now. But when you hold my hand I feel and see only the sunshine upon us.
These moments are what I live for.
Just us, together, sitting quietly. As one day, so many years from now, I hope we still do.
Until we are so very old, and so very grey.