It seems like all we do these days is work, where we are ships passing with a kiss in the morning & we are Momma & Daddy & constantly crunching the numbers of our bank account. We wrangled a cranky toddler & replaced a toilet & I wore yoga pants with no makeup all weekend. We folded laundry together while the boy took a bath & told ourselves that we’d stay up to chat over a cup of coffee but found ourselves pulling back the covers as soon as Harrison fell asleep.
But then in that last exhausted moment of the day, your hand found mine & gave it a squeeze.
Sometimes I think the “Seven Year Itch” is less of an itch & more of a realization that life is messy & imperfect & there’s always going to be “something,” coupled with the final acceptance that I’m not going to change you & you’re not going to change me. It’s equally frustrating & liberating but I will never give up on those butterflies I feel when you wink at me over the dinner table.
There’s nobody I’d rather be with than you.