"Getting older's not been on my plans"

  There is this moment, somewhere between his second to last slowing breath and his first snore. I usually get a a few quiet, glorious moments of staring and touching. His face: so serene and calm. And on occasion, when I caress his right cheek, just before he sails off into dreamless sleep, he slightly will offer his left cheek for a graze.   There is this moment, somewhere between him stripping down to his boxers and getting comfy in his chair. I beckon him with a look and he knows I want to stare. His body is for my eye's taking. I scour his every visible inch...if only for my memorization. And he quarter turns till I am done, and he doesn't flinch. It is for his health. For my pleasure.   There is this moment, somewhere between his 4th and 5th drink. His eyes get that hungry stare. That one that can only be satiated with me. I get to kiss him. But not in the, "I love you too" way...but more in the, "I need you now" way. I mentally put away every dark b

  Often I say snarky things. Most of the time, I say them to Baby bee. And more often, I hear him say back, beneath his breath, "I have; I am; I am." And it was just two years ago, or perhaps what sometimes feels like forever, that we first said those words to each other.   I always imagined I would walk down the aisle, arm locked in my father's, toward a goal. More importantly, toward a man. But I was never quite sure who that would be, or even who I would be. I was an independent woman, of 32, who lost much but knew one thing: I was loved. And as Edelweiss was beautifully intoned on the organ, I walked as gracefully as one can in a long wedding gown towards the man who would hold my forever.   And today, we celebrate ourselves as cotton. Last year, we were paper: fragile and inexpensive. Something that we write our goals and life's deepest darkest secrets upon to remind us that we are each other's intimate diary. This year: cotton. We celebrate the need to rem