This pretty little view is missing the most important part: the guy who gives me hope that all of the loss is really just a way to invite new great things in. More unexpected things, more joyful surprises, more goodness, graciously.
I didn’t see him coming, in fact I dodged and hid as much as I could. But here he is, and here we are. And boy what a ride.
He often reminds me, in loving him, to be gentler. To be more patient. Currently I have the wherewithal of a banshee. But here he is, here we are. And he hasn’t run away yet.
It has been a moment since someone placed both hands upon my face and kissed me as though I were precious. He does it just right, and doesn’t cover my ears (because I hate that).
Grateful is a word I say a lot, but perhaps I should feel it more and express it in actions. Instead of saying “hurry up!” Or “Do more!” Perhaps I should just say thank you.
Also, he can really cook and watching him pick out produce is sweet and irritating. That’s how I know I’m a goner.