The morning is quiet, simple, dark.
I wake early, the 5:00 hour preferably, to be in the quiet, the simple, the dark. I arrive there, coffee cup in hand, laptop, well, in my lap, sitting in the still long before the day has any chance to go sideways on me.
These are my moments, I tell myself, this is my time.
And then, because our house is small and spaces are shared, suddenly my moments are not my own anymore.
Lane arrives in the kitchen, early as well- more because his job demands this and less because of his choice.
My silence on the couch meets his gorilla feet pounding through the kitchen. He makes morning noises, chats about a dream he had and a meeting he will have. He tends to talk to himself in the morning, slicing through the silence, slicing through my silence, actually.
I notice it first in my heart before I notice it in my head- my chest beats a little faster, signaling I am becoming irritated. My head catches up next- wait a second, it pouts, this is your time. How dare he. Why is he even here. I wish he weren’t.
And then- he stands up, shuffles around the kitchen some more, opening up cabinets and drawers and I can feel it inside, I am about to snap. If he interrupts my time a second longer…
He’s unloading the dishwasher. He’s putting dishes away.
He catches my eye, oblivious to the monologue running through my head, gives me a wink and a grin.
I decide he is no longer annoying.
This time is not the precious idol I have made it out to be. My day will not rise and fall based on the number of minutes of silence I have to myself because I have much more power than that. I can choose to stay centered, to stay grateful, to stay above the fray.
I decide this too.
As he continues to put the dishes away and I continue to monitor my narrative, this noise becomes less irritant, more soothing hum in the background to my work.
The clock strikes 6:16, the birds begin to wake and usher in the day outside, a new song becomes my music. Lane leaves, out the door for work. Silence again.
But I remember that wink and a grin.
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Had you asked me about love before I knew it, I would have answered along the lines of stars and chocolate and midnight strolls along the banks of a river. I would have pointed you to that feeling in your stomach when he walks into a room and the spark that ignites when his hand finds yours. I would have told you of that moment in a wedding when the couple is first introduced and the crowd goes wild.
But what then? The couple goes to a party, goes on a trip, goes home and the work begins.
///
Our love? A paradox, it seems.
An adventure, lived out in the most ordinary days.
Soulmates, fighting to do the work.
///
Look to the week prior, and you will see.
8:10pm, 10:15pm, re-examined over coffee at 6:30 the next morning and simmers until dinner that evening. A misunderstanding, a power struggle, an argument ultimately. Each other hurt, ultimately. Avoid, avoid, avoid, everything in me signals. Given the choice of fight or flight in this situation, I will be gone in a second.
But no, that’s not how love works, is it? Love moves toward the other, always.
He takes a step toward me, so I take a deep breath and take a step toward him. Both feisty, we stumble over our words and get defensive and fight some more and simmer down and figure it out.
But we figure it out.
Love is bigger and wider and deeper than I ever knew before I knew it.
///
We arrive at 7:20 on Friday night, three little girls in bed, us on the front porch.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” he asks right as the string of porch lights click on. Our glasses clink, the sky begins to fade, my legs across his lap.
Intertwined, our bodies no longer only mine and his, but ours.
This is what moving toward each other looks like in this moment. Stealing time together as we can, making it work, creatively, on our front porch.
Not the rivers and chocolate and stars, but deeper, wider, truer.
Love is bigger and wider and deeper than I ever knew before I knew it.
///
I think that people cling to that love- that feeling of love- because they stay with their toes dipped in the water, comfortable still. But what if it’s hard, they worry, what if I get hurt, what if they don’t like what they see when they see the real me?
Because then? The work begins because it always does. Is someone going to cut and run?
The feeling ebbs and flows.
It’s work, so much work, to move toward the other, to make it work, to work things out.
But love is bigger and wider and deeper than I ever knew before I knew it.
And work? It’s the only way there.
Hard? Sometimes.
Most of the time? Delightful, as we stumble through our days, but we do it together and I think that’s what matters most right now.
Find me on the front porch, legs across his, watching the sky turn colors for the evening, and we’ll talk about it.
You’ll see.
Want a few more practical ways to move toward one another in connection + adventure + wholeness? Get 5 Steps to a Stronger Marriage right here. xo!
photo by Taylor Hernandez on Unsplash
what do you think?