Skip to main content

This moment

  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 blue-eyed glance. And he keeps coming back for more.
  There is this moment, somewhere between his 3rd or 4th night working 12 hour days. I am greeted with exhaustion and vulnerability. I get to comfort him. It's my arms he seeks and my lips he wants. But just for the reassurance that he is done acting some part that pays our bills. And, if I am unwilling or unable in a mental state to give him his comfort, he nudges up my chin with his head till he finds his solace.
  There is this moment, somewhere between tightening the 1st bolt and loosening the 4th. He gets this determined look of focus that means business. His bottom lips disappears into the top over and over as though his focus is only driven by the movement of his lips. And he works to complete the task at hand. And I get to watch. With bated breath, I watch the resolution come to fruition. He grew up fixing, and he often fixes us...or at least fixes my mood.
  There is this moment, somewhere between me moving my hand towards him and him grasping mine. The veins in his hands pulse with life that mean to me one thing: love...or care..or concern. Or perhaps all three. The callouses brush against mine and all he can say is how soft my hands are. He gives me comfort in the dryness and I him in the softness.
  These moments are mine. These moments are my favorite. And so grateful that I get relive them so very often. There is no one more magnificently able to love me. And not once have I been asked to be any different, nor flinch when I ask him to change. This is us learning. This is us loving. To not sound cliche but failing, I have the greatest lover that has ever existed.
  Think I'll go steal a few more moments...

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Beneath the Weeping Willow

  "The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows—a wall against the wind. This is the willow's purpose." —  Frank Herbert, Dune   Time, although a very evasive concept, is in each moment a gift. And most often, I don't stop to look back at the road I have traveled on. Even more so, the road Justin and I have travelled together. But today it is warranted. Today marks 9 years as husband and wife, and 9 years of truly some amazing and adverse moments. We have lost the most cherished and birthed the most loved all the while interwoven with each other.    I will be the first to admit that our day to day appears to some: mundane. However, inside the ordinary he and I together have understood the profundity of love. It is brash and loud, but it is also cautious and quiet.  "Love is a many splendored thing."  It is the true basis of community, and I am proud of the community we have built.   The  willow  is the t...

The Breath of Life

   "I c-c-c-can't stop shaking." "Oh, that is normal," he said as he looked down at me before he peered back over the blue medical sheet in front of my face. I couldn't. I just couldn't stop the incessant shaking. The moment of welcoming my son had played out in my head everyday for the last 10 months, and I promise, this was NOT it.   We arrived 30 hours prior, and my utopistic idea of induction had not come true.    "There are only a few reasons we would revert to a cesarean section... 1. He is under stress. 2. I am under stress. 3. He isn't progressing after some time, but chances are we won't get there."    So, after 22 hours of quite intense labor, I found myself being prepped for a c-section. I'll be the first to admit, my words of, "We will do what we have to do to have a healthy baby," seemed so far gone now. I wasn't sure emotionally how I had gotten this far, or even how I would get further.   "We are go...

Being his girlfriend

"Are you happy being my girlfriend?" He asks. In all seriousness. In all honesty. He asks. Never once have I been asked such a damned difficult question. Never once have I been asked that slight simple question. Never once have I been asked THAT question.   Immediately, my head goes a thousand different directions. I want to give him the most honest answer. But lately I feel as though I am trying to quantity my happiness. Yes. I. Am. Happy. But what is happiness? Am I? Can I honestly say that I am happy? I don't know.   Before I make an ass out of myself, I must say this: not one time in the history of Aly and men has she ever felt like her significant other was shelter. You know that line from Finding Nemo where Dory says to Marlin, "When I look at you, I remember. When I look at you, I am home." That's the way I feel when I am in his arms. Home. Perhaps it best not to tell him such a bold thought, but it's true.   Back to this question. Am I happy b...